_Mrs. Miller_: “Exquisite! But then she has such perfect taste.” _Bemis_, to _Mrs. Roberts_, who drifts near them: “We were talking about your apartment, Mrs. Roberts. It’s charming.” _Mrs. Roberts_: “It _is_ nice. It’s the ideal way of living. All on one floor. No stairs. Nothing.” _Bemis_: “Yes, when once you get here! But that little matter of five pair up”— _Mrs. Roberts_: “You don’t mean to say you _walked_ up! Why in the world didn’t you take the elevator?” _Bemis_: “I didn’t know you had one.” _Mrs. Roberts_: “It’s the only thing that makes life worth living in a flat. All these apartment hotels have them.” _Bemis_: “Bless me! Well, you see, I’ve been away from Boston so long, and am back so short a time, that I can’t realize your luxuries and conveniences. In Florence we _always_ walk up. They have _ascenseurs_ in a few great hotels, and they brag of it in immense signs on the sides of the building.” _Lawton_: “What pastoral simplicity! We are elevated here to a degree that you can’t conceive of, gentle shepherd. Has yours got an air-cushion, Mrs. Roberts?” _Mrs. Roberts_: “An air-cushion? What’s that?” _Lawton_: “The only thing that makes your life worth a moment’s purchase in an elevator. You get in with a glass of water, a basket of eggs, and a file of the ‘Daily Advertiser.’ They cut the elevator loose at the top, and you drop.” _Both Ladies_: “Oh!” _Lawton_: “In three seconds you arrive at the ground-floor, reading your file of the ‘Daily Advertiser;’ not an egg broken nor a drop spilled. I saw it done in a New York hotel. The air is compressed under the elevator, and acts as a sort of ethereal buffer.” _Mrs. Roberts_: “And why don’t we always go down in that way?” _Lawton_: “Because sometimes the walls of the elevator shaft give out.” _Mrs. Roberts_: “And what then?” _Lawton_: “Then the elevator stops more abruptly. I had a friend who tried it when this happened.” _Mrs. Roberts_: “And what did he do?” _Lawton_: “Stepped out of the elevator; laughed; cried; went home; got into bed: and did not get up for six weeks. Nervous shock. He was fortunate.” _Mrs. Miller_: “I shouldn’t think you’d want an air-cushion on _your_ elevator, Mrs. Roberts.” _Mrs. Roberts_: “No, indeed! Horrid!” The bell rings. “Edward, _you_ go and see if that’s Aunt Mary.” _Mrs. Miller_: “It’s Mr. Miller, I know.” _Bemis_: “Or my son.” _Lawton_: “My voice is for Mrs. Roberts’s brother. I’ve given up all hopes of my daughter.” _Roberts_, without: “Oh, Curwen! Glad to see you! Thought you were my wife’s aunt.” _Lawton_, at a suppressed sigh from _Mrs. Roberts_: “It’s one of his jokes, Mrs. Roberts. Of course it’s your aunt.” _Mrs. Roberts_, through her set teeth, smilingly: “Oh, if it _is_, I’ll make him suffer for it.” _Mr. Curwen_, without: “No, I hated to wait, so I walked up.”