"He made you feel that he liked you, and admired you; I can't tell you how. He didn't say a single flattering word to me, but when he promised to meet Mrs. Hilbrough again, to arrange about the people she is to have at the reception, he bowed to me and said, 'And Miss Callender, I hope.'" "I'll tell you what, Phillida, I'll bet he took a fancy to you." "Nonsense, Agatha Callender; don't talk such stuff. He's been for years in society, and knows all the fine people in New York." "Nonsense, yourself, Phillida; you're better than any of the fine ladies in New York. Mr. Millard isn't good enough for you. But I just know he was taken with you." "Do you think I'm going to have my head turned by bows and fine speeches that have been made to five hundred other women?" "There never was any other woman in New York as fine as you, Phillida." "Not among your acquaintance, and in your opinion, my dear, seeing you hardly know any other young woman but me." "I know more than you think I do. If you had any common sense, Phillida, you'd make the most of Aunt Harriet, and marry some man that would furnish you with a horse and a carriage of your own. But you won't. You're just a goosey. You spend your time on the urchins down in Mackerelville. The consequence is you'll never get married, and I shall have you on my hands an old maid who never improved her opportunities." "What stuff!" laughed Phillida. "You've got a fine figure--a splendid figure," proceeded the younger, "and a face that is sweet and charming, if I do say it. It's a dreadful waste of woman. You wrap your talent in a Sunday-school lesson-paper and bury it down in Mackerelville." At this point Mrs. Callender put away her elaborate hand-finished stocking, saying softly: "Agatha, why do you tease Phillida so?" "Because she's such a goose," said the younger sister, stubbornly.