recognition of her claims by said society. The exclusive circle of which
the beautiful wife of Grosvenor Graystone had long been an acknowledged
leader, politely, but firmly repulsed the overtures of the ladies of the
Brown family, in such a way that they were not again repeated, and the
result, as we have seen, was their cordial dislike, and even more, a
vindictive hatred.

"Hard to part with everything," hissed Mrs. Brown, "and you pity them, I
suppose, Alicia! You, who have been snubbed by them so repeatedly, that
you have come to expect nothing better at their hands! You, a daughter
of the people, so to speak;" (Mrs. Brown, since her signal defeat by the
Graystone clique, had been at no little pains to air her democratic
principles, much in the way we have seen some of our politicians do in
the present day.) However, she was not so good a sensational speaker as
Mrs. Crane, and like every one who attempts to imitate anything out of
their "line," or perform impossibilities, and probably owing, in part,
to her defective education, she became easily confused and bewildered in
an argument. She should have known, poor lady, that flights of
imagination ought not to be attempted by a practical little body like
herself, as the aforementioned retired grocer had more than once
informed her during some of their little conjugal scenes in which Mrs.
Brown's bony fingers and long nails generally played an active part. But
if the lady aimed at dramatic effect, she succeeded only too well, for
the little angular form, bristling with indignation, from the depths of
the great crimson velvet easy chair, the lurid eyes emitting greenish
lights, and the gaunt arm waved in the air, created a momentary
diversion. Mrs. Crane compressed her thin lips closely; Miss Cynthia
raised a filmy lace handkerchief and coughed slightly, and Alicia Linden
burst into a loud, masculine laugh. Mrs. Brown instantly subsided and
the conversation was skilfully turned into another channel. The