“Then it was Miss Spicer. I could not imagine who had done me the honor of reporting my movements,” said the young man, bowing low. “Angry, ha! Don’t like people to make a note of his little escapades. Well, it isn’t quite fair. But when one overleaps all the barriers of society so bravely, of course, he must expect it to be known.” “And, of course, young ladies who have nothing else to do, must be expected to magnify and multiply the news.” Miss Spicer threw up her hands. “Nothing else to do! Now I like that; as if there ever was seen a creature so hard-working as a young lady in society. Only think of the notes one has to write; putting off disagreeable people, and enticing the other set on; the shopping; the walks down town just as business breaks up, when crowds of us turn southward as steadily as sunflowers keep with the sun; hunting down dress-makers, tormenting milliners, reading all the French novels, little flirtations with one’s music-master, learning love phrases with one’s Italian teacher. I tell you, Mr. Lambert, one has to crowd life even to get in gossip and scandal enough to spice it respectably. Don’t talk to me about having nothing else to do.” “I never will again. The occupations you enumerate are too grand and noble for dispute. Hereafter I shall set down a fashionable young lady as the busiest and most useful creature on earth.” “Of course we are. Eternally on the go, scarcely time to breathe from morning till night.” “Perhaps that is why so many of them are called ‘fast,’” said Lambert, demurely. “Oh, you abominable creature!” cried the young lady, shaking her cane-parasol at Lambert. “That’s intended for me; but I don’t accept it. You are to consider me as among the prudes and conservatives, remember. Did I not come here to rebuke your own fast conduct? Don’t expect to get rid of the shop-girl by attacking me.” “I have no wish to get rid of her in any way, Miss Spicer,” said Lambert, gravely. “Nor do I care to make her the subject of this conversation. Mother, have you any commands?” Mrs. Lambert, who had been quietly listening to this war of words, shook her head. “Oh! if you are going down the Avenue, I don’t mind walking a block or two,” said the irrepressible Miss Spicer, pulling down her lace mask, and grasping the coral-mounted handle of her parasol, as if it had, in fact, been a cane. “It will require something of that kind to set you right, after your promenade with the lady we don’t care to mention. But, wait one moment, I had forgotten what brought me here. Mrs. Lambert, do give me your advice. I have a card for that Mrs. Carter’s party. What shall I do about it?” Mrs. Lambert looked up quickly, and a flush of unusual color came into her face. “I—I beg pardon; what did you say, Miss Spicer?” “Only if I can venture on accepting. She is so awful shoddy, it will be great fun.” “I have received cards,” answered Mrs. Lambert, quietly, “and it is probable that I may accept.”