"Don't use English words so carelessly, my dear, until you are less ignorant of their meaning," she reproved me as she sat erect and gave to my lungs an inch more breathing space. I had heard that large lady of the State of Cincinnati on the ship say that a nice lady from a place called Kansas, and whom everyone gave the title of Mrs. Grass because of a disagreeable husband who was not dead, "compromised" herself with a very much drinking gentleman from Boston because she sat in a small space with him behind the chimney for smoke from the engine, and I thought it was a nice word to fit into the conversation with Madam Whitworth at that time. And I think it did fit better than I had quite intended that it should. I saw offense and I hastened to make a peace so that I should learn all that I wanted to know from her while letting her learn all that I did not know from me. "I beg that you pardon me, beautiful Madam, and teach me the English words to say that will express all of--of the most wonderful things that I think of you. What is the one word that expresses the beauty of the blue flowers in crystal that I said your eyes to be, to myself, the first time I looked into them upon that railroad train when you rescued me from the black taffeta lady?" And as I was at that moment speaking the exact truth I spoke with a great ardor. "I rather think that offsets Sue Tomlinson's 'cream jug' compliment--and you _are_ a dear," she answered as she again diminished the space for my lung action. "I hear the dear General has turned you over to the Governor completely. What do you think of him?" she asked as if to manufacture conversation. "Yes, I was made a gift to him last week, and I do not think very much of that Gouverneur," I made answer with excellent falseness, because I had had no thoughts since my presentation to that Gouverneur Faulkner that were not of him. I had obtained the uncomplimentary remark upon the ship, from the lady of Cincinnati, who said it about the doctor of the seasickness from which she suffered. "Between you and me, boy--if anything, even an opinion, can be wedged between us--I think the Governor is a great, overrated stupid, encouraged in his denseness by the dear General whose ideas have--have--er--rather solidified with age. I rather pity you for having to have all of your opinions and policies of life moulded by them. Yes, it is a pity." And she sighed very near to my cheek. "Will you not mould me to some extent yourself, beautiful flower-eyed Madam?" I asked of her with great gentleness, and did administer a nice little pressure to her shoulders like I had adventured upon the waist of the beautiful Belle in blue and silver dress which Madam Whitworth had named a pinafore.