Mrs. Carter’s party had been the grand sensation of a week. Fashionable circles were profoundly agitated by the great social question it evolved. The word “shoddy” became inelegantly common in ladies’ conversation. Fastidiously exclusive people, whose fathers had raised cabbages, sold milk, and fattened pigs on land that time, rather than ability, had paved inches deep with gold, smiled significantly, or answered with delicate reserve, when asked if they would be at the Carters’. In fact, superfine jests and aristocratic sneers were the order of the day, until Miss Spicer made a round of calls through all the windings and ramifications of uppertendom, when a marvellous change was produced. “Of course,” the young lady said, “Mrs. Lambert was going, and openly expressed herself as highly pleased with the invitation. Why not? Mrs. Carter was enormously wealthy. Shoddy, indeed! What of that? After a great civil war, society, like States, must be reconstructed.” Mrs. Lambert and herself had settled on that, and nothing could move them; the thing must be done in the most liberal manner. The aristocracy of wealth had no right to exclude a lady like Mrs. Carter; as for the smaller and more exalted circle of genius, the lady’s brother, Mr. Ross, stood high among the highest there—so the family had a double claim to consideration. At any rate, Miss Spicer went on to say Mrs. Lambert had accepted, and ordered one of the loveliest dresses for the occasion. In fact—though it was not a thing to talk about—some of her diamonds were being reset at Ball & Black’s. For years Miss Spicer had not seen Mrs. Lambert enter into the spirit of a grand toilet with such zest. She was anxious as a girl of sixteen about it. When a royal prince was here she had not cared half so much; but then Mrs. Lambert always did adore genius; and Mrs. Carter’s brother was something really distinguished in that line—painted like an angel, and in conversation was perfectly splendid. It was wonderful how much effect these repeated conversations of Miss Spicer had upon the great social mind of the metropolis. The diverging current turned at once in favor of the Carters. Those who had openly called the lady vulgar, now found her remarkably stylish—not handsome, but queenly and imposing; so generous, too. If she was a little showy and all that, it was because a rich, natural taste was likely to develop itself gorgeously when plenty of money was at hand. Her party would be something perfectly magnificent. Her orders for flowers had exhausted every green-house for miles around, and the supper would be marvelous. It was said that an _artiste_ had come out from Paris to preside over its preparation.