"Sentimentalize, that's right!" Pendleton exclaimed. "It's about all that's left to us to do--except to go along with the bunch, and keep our hands in our pockets to keep theirs out." "Aren't the new ones even _honest_?" Burgoyne asked. "They haven't shown it as yet." "Do you think our ancestors were any different?" "Possibly not--but they are dead and we are entirely respectable!" smiled Pendleton. "Moreover it required a century for them to pry open the doors--and culture was acquired while they were prying. Now--the doors are jimmied open while you wait." "I thought you said they opened them with a golden key," Burgoyne remarked. "They pry them open with the gold key, Sir Captious--is that plain to you?" "It's the survival of the fittest," suggested Devereux. "On the basis of the dollar mark--yes." "Which we have agreed is the universal basis now-a-days," said Burgoyne. "Tell me, who is the young woman who has just driven up in the cart?" Pendleton glanced out in time to see a tall girl in a blue gown and a picture hat toss the reins of the dancing bay to a groom and spring lightly from her high perch. "_That_ is Miss Emerson," he answered. "Does the world-wanderer approve of her style?" "Pretty fit!" was the reply. "Especially fit with such a father. Is it the mother?" "No--it's _not_ the mother," said Pendleton decidedly; "and we can't go back any further. I'll present you if you wish." "She _is very_ good looking," Burgoyne reflected. "If you go upstairs you'll likely see plenty more with the same opinion," Devereux remarked. "She is the most popular girl in the Club, if attentions count and the number of the attentioners." He pushed back his chair. "I think I'll go up myself--come along?" "Not now, thank you," Burgoyne declined. "I shall sit here with Pendleton and be put wise to the changes that have occurred in my absence." "You'll keep him busy--as changers we're in the chameleon class. So long!" and with a nod he went upstairs. "_He_ hasn't changed!" Burgoyne laughed. "No--Dev is the same innocent fusser he always was--coming down every year to the debutantes, as blithesome as a boy and as harmless. It's an avocation with him--when business hours are over. And it's astonishing how well he does both." "Who is he fussing now--in particular?" "Miss Emerson--he has been fussing her for two years--and she plays him well." "Seriously, you think?" "No one takes Devereux's attentions seriously--not even himself." "Two years is a long time with our friend. He used to last a year at the most, then flit away to another bud. I didn't see her close but she looks at least fifteen years younger than he." "About that, I fancy," said Pendleton. "Moreover, one can never judge what Devereux's actions mean--except that they don't mean what they would naturally imply." "Do you think he is actually interested in the Emerson girl?" Burgoyne inquired.