“Oh,” explained Miss Lamont, “you can make calls; go to teas and receptions and dinners; belong to the Casino, but not appear there much; and you must drive on the Ocean Road, and look as English as you can. Didn't you notice that Redfern has an establishment on the Avenue? Well, the London girls wear what Redfern tells them to wear-much to the improvement of their appearance--and so it has become possible for a New-Yorker to become partially English without sacrificing her native taste.” Before lunch Mrs. Bartlett Glow called on the Bensons, and invited them to a five-o'clock tea, and Miss Lamont, who happened to be in the parlor, was included in the invitation. Mrs. Glow was as gracious as possible, and especially attentive to the old lady, who purred with pleasure, and beamed and expanded into familiarity under the encouragement of the woman of the world. In less than ten minutes Mrs. Glow had learned the chief points in the family history, the state of health and habits of pa (Mr. Benson), and all about Cyrusville and its wonderful growth. In all this Mrs. Glow manifested a deep interest, and learned, by observing out of the corner of her eye, that Irene was in an agony of apprehension, which she tried to conceal under an increasing coolness of civility. “A nice lady,” was Mrs. Benson's comment when Mrs. Glow had taken herself away with her charmingly-scented air of frank cordiality--“a real nice lady. She seemed just like our folks.” Irene heaved a deep sigh. “I suppose we shall have to go.” “Have to go, child? I should think you'd like to go. I never saw such a girl--never. Pa and me are just studying all the time to please you, and it seems as if--” And the old lady's voice broke down. “Why, mother dear”--and the girl, with tears in her eyes, leaned over her and kissed her fondly, and stroked her hair--“you are just as good and sweet as you can be; and don't mind me; you know I get in moods sometimes.” The old lady pulled her down and kissed her, and looked in her face with beseeching eyes. “What an old frump the mother is!” was Mrs. Glow's comment to Stanhope, when she next met him; “but she is immensely amusing.” “She is a kind-hearted, motherly woman,” replied King, a little sharply. “Oh, motherly! Has it come to that? I do believe you are more than half gone. The girl is pretty; she has a beautiful figure; but my gracious! her parents are impossible--just impossible. And don't you think she's a little too intellectual for society? I don't mean too intellectual, of course, but too mental, don't you know--shows that first. You know what I mean.” “But, Penelope, I thought it was the fashion now to be intellectual--go in for reading, and literary clubs, Dante and Shakespeare, and political economy, and all that.”