“Should you be willin',” asked Mrs. Lander, after another little pause, “if your folks was willin', to go ova the'a, to some of them European countries, to spend the winta?” “Oh yes, indeed!” said Clementina. They discussed the matter in one of the full talks they both liked. At the end Mrs. Lander said, “Well, I guess you betta write home, and ask your motha whetha you can go, so't if we take the notion we can go any time. Tell her to telegraph, if she'll let you, and do write all the ifs and ands, so't she'll know just how to answa, without havin' to have you write again.” That evening Mrs. Milray came to their table from where she had been dining alone, and asked in banter: “Well, have you made up your minds to go over with me?” Mrs. Lander said bluntly, “We can't ha'dly believe you really want us to, Mrs. Milray.” “I don't want you? Who put such an idea into your head! Oh, I know!” She threatened Clementina with the door-key, which she was carrying in her hand. “It was you, was it? What an artful, suspicious thing! What's got into you, child? Do you hate me?” She did not give Clementina time to protest. “Well, now, I can just tell you I do want you, and I'll be quite heart-broken if you don't come.” “Well, she wrote to her friends this mohning,” Mrs. Lander said, “but I guess she won't git an answa in time for youa steamer, even if they do let her go.” “Oh, yes she will,” Mrs. Milray protested. “It's all right, now; you've got to go, and there's no use trying to get out of it.”