He told her of a little spot which the physician had recommended, where the air was pure and the water good, and then continued: “But I cannot go alone; it would be so poky and forlorn, with nobody I know. I must have a nurse to look after me and keep me straight. Will you go with me, Queenie?” he said, looking earnestly into the eyes which met his so innocently, as, without a blush, Queenie answered: “Of course I’ll go with you, Phil. Did you think I would let you go alone?” She was so guileless and unsuspecting of evil that it seemed almost a pity to open her eyes and show her that the world is not always charitable in its construction of acts, however innocent in themselves—that Mrs. Grundy is a great stickler for the proprieties, and that for a young girl to go alone to a hotel or boarding-house as nurse to a young man in no way related to her would make every hair of that venerable lady’s head stand upright with horror. But Phil must do it, both for her sake and by way of accomplishing the end he had in view. So he said to her: “I knew you would go with me; but, Queenie, do you know that for Queenie _Hetherton_ to go to the mountains as a nurse to a great long-legged, rather fast-looking fellow like Phil Rossiter, would be to compromise herself sadly in the estimation of some people.” I doubt if Queenie quite comprehended him, for she looked at him wonderingly, and said: “I don’t know what you mean by my being compromised. I think it is an ugly word, and not at all one you should use with reference to myself, as if I should not always behave like a lady, whether I was taking care of you among the mountains, or here in Memphis, as I am doing now.” She was getting a little excited, and her eyes shone with the gleam Phil remembered so well and rather liked to provoke. “Yes, I know,” he said, “but don’t you remember what you told me of the _cats_ at the St. James, who used to spy upon the young people and make remarks about them? Well there are _cats_ everywhere, and they would find us out in the mountains, and however quiet and modest you might be, they would set up a dreadful caterwauling because you were with me, and not at all related to me. They would tear you in pieces, till you had not a shred of reputation left. Do you understand now that as Queenie Hetherton you cannot go with me?” “No, I don’t understand,” she answered wrathfully, “and I think it mean in you to ask me first if I will go, and then, when I say yes, to talk to me about _cats_, and compromise and reputation, as if I were bad, and immodest, and every sort of a thing. No, Phil, I didn’t expect this from you; I must say I did not, and I don’t like it, and I don’t like you either—_there!_ and I won’t stay here any longer to hear such dreadful talk!”