"--young and innocent girls. I find, however, that you haven't the first instincts of a lady. I daresay it is too much to expect." She sighed profoundly. "I know something about the lower classes in London, having been at one time interested in settlement work there in connection with Lady Bannistell's committee, and I am aware that too much should not be expected of them. That is to say, too much in the way of--er--delicacy. Still, I thought you might prove to be an exception. I have learned my lesson. I shall in the future engage only German governesses. From time to time I have observed little things in you that disquieted me, but I overlooked them because you appeared to be earnestly striving to overcome the handicap placed upon you at birth. For example, I have found cigarette stubs in your room when I--" "Oh, I say, mother," broke in Stuyvesant; "cut it out." "My dear!" "You'd smoke 'em yourself if father didn't put up such a roar about it. Lot of guff about your grandmothers turning over in their graves. I don't see anything wrong in a woman smoking cigarettes. Besides, you may be accusing Miss Emsdale unjustly. What proof have you that the stubs were hers?" "I distinctly said that I found them in her room," said Mrs. Smith-Parvis icily. "I don't know how they got there." "Circumstantial evidence," retorted Stuyvie, an evil twist at one corner of his mouth. "Doesn't prove that she smoked 'em, does it?" He met Miss Emsdale's burning gaze for an instant, and then looked away. "Might have been the housekeeper. She smokes." "It was not the housekeeper," said Jane quietly. "I smoke." "We are digressing," said Mrs. Smith-Parvis sternly. "There are other instances of your lack of refinement, Miss Emsdale, but I shall not recite them. Suffice to say, I deeply deplore the fact that my children have been subject to contamination for so long. I am afraid they have acquired--" Jane had drawn herself up haughtily. She interrupted her employer. "Be good enough, Mrs. Smith-Parvis, to come to the point," she said. "Have you nothing more serious to charge me with than smoking? Out with it! Let's have the worst." "How dare you speak to me in that--My goodness!" She half started up from her chair. "What _have_ you been up to? Drinking? Or some low affair with the butler? Good heavens, have I been harbouring a--" "Don't get so excited, momsey," broke in Stuyvesant, trying to transmit a message of encouragement to Miss Emsdale by means of sundry winks and frowns and cautious head-shakings. "Keep your hair on." "My--my hair?" gasped his mother. Mr. Smith-Parvis got up. "Stuyvesant, you'd better retire," he said, noisily. "Remember, sir, that you are speaking to your mother. It came out at the time of her illness,--when we were so near to losing her,--and you--"