“Willie, who is Miss Pratt?” asked Mrs. Baxter, mildly. “I don't think I've ever heard of--” Jane had returned to an admirable imperturbability, but she chose this moment to interrupt her mother, and her own eating, with remarks delivered in a tone void of emphasis or expression. “Willie's mashed on her,” she said, casually. “And she wears false side-curls. One almost came off.” At this unspeakable desecration William's face was that of a high priest stricken at the altar. “She's visitin' Miss May Parcher,” added the deadly Jane. “But the Parchers are awful tired of her. They wish she'd go home, but they don't like to tell her so.” One after another these insults from the canaille fell upon the ears of William. That slanders so atrocious could soil the universal air seemed unthinkable. He became icily calm. “NOW if you don't punish her,” he said, deliberately, “it's because you have lost your sense of duty!” Having uttered these terrible words, he turned upon his heel and marched toward the house. His mother called after him: “Wait, Willie. Jane doesn't mean to hurt your feelings--” “My feelings!” he cried, the iciness of his demeanor giving way under the strain of emotion. “You stand there and allow her to speak as she did of one of the--one of the--” For a moment William appeared to be at a loss, and the fact is that it always has been a difficult matter to describe THE bright, ineffable divinity of the world to one's mother, especially in the presence of an inimical third party of tender years. “One of the--” he said; “one of the--the noblest--one of the noblest--” Again he paused. “Oh, Jane didn't mean anything,” said Mrs. Baxter. “And if you think Miss Pratt is so nice, I'll ask May Parcher to bring her to tea with us some day. If it's too hot, we'll have iced tea, and you can ask Johnnie Watson, if you like. Don't get so upset about things, Willie!” “'Upset'!” he echoed, appealing to heaven against this word. “'Upset'!” And he entered the house in a manner most dramatic. “What made you say that?” Mrs. Baxter asked, turning curiously to Jane when William had disappeared. “Where did you hear any such things?” “I was there,” Jane replied, gently eating on and on. William could come and William could go, but Jane's alimentary canal went on forever. “You were where, Jane?” “At the Parchers'.” “Oh, I see.” “Yesterday afternoon,” said Jane, “when Miss Parcher had the Sunday-school class for lemonade and cookies.” “Did you hear Miss Parcher say--” “No'm,” said Jane. “I ate too many cookies, I guess, maybe. Anyways, Miss Parcher said I better lay down--” “LIE down, Jane.”