"There is great danger they would not." "You would, mother." "Perhaps not. But I have always enough, Rotha." "Enough!" echoed Rotha. "Enough! when you haven't had a good dinner since-- Mother, there he is again, I do believe!" And she had hardly time to remove the empty tea cup and, alas! empty plates, which testified to their meagre fare, when the knock came and Mr. Digby shewed himself. He explained that he had been out of town; made careful inquiries as to Mrs. Carpenter's health; paid for the shirts; and finally turned to Rotha. "How is my friend here doing?" "We always go on just the same way," said Rotha. But he could see that the girl was thin, and pale; and that just at an age when she was growing fast and needing abundant food, she was not getting it. "Ask Mr. Digby your question, Rotha," her mother said. "I do not want to ask him any questions," the girl answered defiantly. But Mrs. Carpenter went on. "Rotha wants to know what a gentleman is; and I was not able to discuss the point satisfactorily with her. I told her to ask you." Rotha did not ask, however, and there was silence. "Rotha is fond of asking questions," Mr. Digby observed. "What makes you think so?" she retorted. He smiled. "It is a very good habit--provided of course that the questions are properly put." "I like to ask mother questions," Rotha said, drawing in a little. "I have no doubt you would like to ask me questions, if you once got into the way of it. Habit is everything." "Not quite everything, in this," said Rotha. "There must be something before the habit." "Yes. There must be a beginning." "I meant something else." "Did you? May I ask, what did you mean?" "I mean a good deal," said Rotha. "Before one could get a habit like that, one must know that the person could answer the questions; and besides, that he would like to have them asked." "In my case I will pledge myself for the second qualification; about the first you must learn by experience. Suppose you try." His manner was so pleasant and well bred, and Rotha felt that she had gone so near the edge of politeness, she found it best for this time to comply. "I asked mother one day what is the meaning of a 'gentleman'; and I suppose she was too tired to talk to me, for she said I had better ask you." "O he did me honour." "Well, what is it then, Mr. Digby." "I should say, it is the counterpart to a 'lady.'" "But isn't everybody that is grown up, a 'lady'?--every woman, I mean?" "No more than every grown up man is a gentleman."