_Miss Spaulding_: “And I don’t believe you ever were in love, or ever will be.” _Miss Reed_: “Ah, there you wrong me, Henrietta! I have been, and I shall be—lots of times.” _Miss Spaulding_: “Well, what do you want to say now? You must hurry, for I can’t lose any more time.” _Miss Reed_: “I will free my mind with neatness and despatch. I simply wish to go over the whole affair, from Alfred to Omaha; and you’ve got to let me talk as much slang and nonsense as I want. And then I’ll skip all the details I can. Will you?” _Miss Spaulding_, with impatient patience: “Oh, I suppose so!” _Miss Reed_: “That’s very sweet of you, though you don’t look it. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, do you think it was forth-putting at all, to ask him if he would give me the lessons?” _Miss Spaulding_: “It depends upon why you asked him.” _Miss Reed_: “I asked him from—from—Let me see; I asked him because—from—Yes, I say it boldly; I asked him from an enthusiasm for art, and a sincere wish to learn the use of oil, as he called it. Yes!” _Miss Spaulding_: “Are you sure?” _Miss Reed_: “Sure? Well, we will say that I am, for the sake of argument. And, having secured this basis, the question is whether I wasn’t bound to offer him pay at the end, and whether he wasn’t wrong to take my doing so in dudgeon.” _Miss Spaulding_: “Yes, I think he was wrong. And the terms of his refusal were very ungentlemanly. He ought to apologize most amply and humbly.” At a certain expression in _Miss Reed’s_ face, she adds, with severity: “Unless you’re keeping back the main point. You usually do. Are you?” _Miss Reed_: “No, no. I’ve told you everything—everything!” _Miss Spaulding_: “Then I say, as I said from the beginning, that he behaved very badly. It was very awkward and very painful, but you’ve really nothing to blame yourself for.” _Miss Reed_, ruefully: “No-o-o!” _Miss Spaulding_: “What do you mean by that sort of ‘No’?” _Miss Reed_: “Nothing.” _Miss Spaulding_, sternly: “Yes, you do, Ethel.” _Miss Reed_: “I don’t, really. What makes you’ think I do?” _Miss Spaulding_: “It sounded very dishonest.” _Miss Reed_: “Did it? I didn’t mean it to.” Her friend breaks down with a laugh, while _Miss Reed_ preserves a demure countenance. _Miss Spaulding_: “What _are_ you keeping back?” _Miss Reed_: “Nothing at all—less than nothing! I never thought it was worth mentioning.” _Miss Spaulding_: “Are you telling me the truth?” _Miss Reed_: “I’m telling you the truth and something more. You can’t ask better than that, can you?” _Miss Spaulding_, turning to her music again: “Certainly not.” _Miss Reed_: in a pathetic wail: “O Henrietta! do you abandon me thus? Well, I will tell you, heartless girl! I’ve only kept it back till now because it was so extremely mortifying to my pride as an artist—as a student of oil. Will you hear me?” _Miss Spaulding_, beginning to play: “No.”