“He is a very good fellow--I don't say he isn't. No one could say he wasn't nice-looking, but somehow he doesn't make you feel--you know, right down, you know, through and through.” “Electricity,” said Maggie, with a low, subtle laugh, and her thread cracked through the straw of the hat. “Yes,” cried Sally boisterously. “Electricity, I never heard it called that before; but it isn't a bad name for it; it is like electricity. When a man looks at you--you know, in a peculiar way, it goes right down your back from the very crown of your head.” “No, not down my back; I feel it down my chest, just like forked lightning. Isn't it horrid? You know that it is coming and you can't help it. Some men fix their eyes on you.” “It is just when you meet a man's eyes--a man you like, but haven't seen much of.” “I don't think liking has anything to do with it. I hate it; don't you?” “No, I don't know that I do. I can't see anything so disagreeable as that in it. 'Tis rather a shock, a sort of pang.” Mrs. Wood raised her mild face and looked surprised through her thick spectacles; the merry niece bit her lips, and strove to stay her laughter. Then Maggie said: “Sue, have you ever felt electricity?” “Oh, miss! I don't think I understand,” and she glanced at her aunt over the hem she was running. “Now, come, tell the truth. You mean to say you never felt electricity?” “I don't think I ever did, miss.” “I don't believe you. Not when that nice young man you were telling us about looked at you? Come, now, tell the truth.” “Well, miss, I don't know--I thought it was very revolting.” Mrs. Wood said nothing; with her hand in suspended gesture and her spectacles a-glimmer with round surprise, she sat looking at Miss Maggie. Her reveries, however, were soon cut short, for Sally not only asked her if she had ever experienced the doubtful pleasure of electricity, but advised her when she returned home to try if her husband's looks could thrill her. “I don't think the conversation at all nice,” said Grace, who had up to the present taken no part either by looks, or words, or laughter. “Who cares what you think? You used to be fond enough of sitting out dances with him. You mean to say he never gave you electricity?” “No, never.” “Then I hope Berkins will,” said Sally, with a coarse laugh. The association of Berkins with electricity proved so generally ludicrous that Mrs. Wood, conscious of the respect she owed Miss Brookes, pretended to look for her handkerchief, and it was for a moment doubtful if the spectacles would preserve their gravity. Tears started to Grace's eyes, and she bent over her work to hide them from her sisters, which was unnecessary, for Maggie and Sally were absorbed in past experiences. “What about Frank?” Sally asked, and Susan looked up curious to hear Maggie's answer. “Well,” said Maggie, staring at the window, “Frank is very good-looking, but I don't think that he electrifies one... he did once.”