“Art-students?” he repeated aimlessly while he felt his colour go. “Yes!” she snapped. “Them girls 't used to be 't the St. Albans, 't you thought so wonderful!” “I didn't know I thought they were very wonderful!” “Can't you answer a civil question?” she demanded, raising her voice. “I haven't heard any,” said Lemuel, with sullen scorn. “Oh! Well!” she sneered. “I forgot that you've b'en used to goin' with such fine folks that you can't bear to be spoken to in plain English.” “'Manda!” began Statira, with an incipient whimper. “You be still, S'tira Dudley! Mr. Barker,” said the poor foolish thing in the mincing falsetto which she thought so cutting, “have you any idea what's become of your young lady artist friends,--them that took your portrait as a Roman youth, you know?” Lemuel made no answer whatever for a time. Then, whether he judged it best to do so, or was goaded to the defiance by 'Manda Grier's manner, he replied, “Miss Swan and Miss Carver? Miss Swan is married, and lives in Wyoming Territory now.” Before he had reached the close of the sentence he had controlled himself sufficiently to be speaking quite calmly. “Oh indeed, Mr. Barker! And may I ask where Miss Carver is? She merried and living in Wyoming Territory too?” “No,” said Lemuel quietly. “She's not married. She's in Boston.” “Indeed! Then it _was_ her I see in the Garden to-day, S'tira! She b'en back long, Mr. Barker?” “About a month, I think,” said Lemuel. “Quite a spell! _You_ seen her, Mr. Barker?” “Yes, quite often.” “I want to know! She still paintin' Roman boys, Mr. Barker? Didn't seem to make any great out at it last winter! But practice makes perfect, they say. I s'pose _you_ seen her in the Garden, too?” “I usually see her at home,” said Lemuel. “_You_ probably receive your friends on the benches in the Garden, but young ladies prefer to have them call at their residences.” He astonished himself by this brutality, he who was all gentleness with Miss Carver. “Very well, Mr. Barker! That's all right. That's all I wanted to know. Never mind about where I meet my friends. Wherever it is, they're _gentlemen_; and they ain't generally goin' with three or four girls 't the same time.” “No, one like you would be enough,” retorted Lemuel. Statira sat cowering away from the quarrel, and making little ineffectual starts as if to stay it. Heretofore their enmity had been covert, if not tacit, in her presence. Lemuel saw her wavering, and the wish to show 'Manda his superior power triumphed over every other interest and impulse in him. He got upon his feet. “There is no use in this sort of thing going on any longer. I came here because I thought I was wanted. If it's a mistake, it's easy enough to mend it, and it's easy not to make it again. I wish you good evening.”