"Miss Hinsdale has been talking--raving--to me about you! You may not know
it--though I suppose you do--but you made a conquest last night. It seems
a little hard on the poor young man who is at work for you in Plattville,
doing his best for you, plodding on through the hot days, and doing all he
knows how, while you sit listening to music in the evenings with Clara
Hinsdale, and make a mock of his work and his trying to please you----"

"But I didn't mention him to Miss Hinsdale. In fact, I didn't mention
_anything_ to Miss Hinsdale. What have I done? The young man is making his
living by his work--and my living, too, for that matter. It only seems to
me that his tariff editorials are rather humorous."

She laughed suddenly--ringingly. "Of course they are! How should I know?
Immensely humorous! And the good creature knows nothing beyond smuggling
and the custom-house and chalk marks? Why, even _I_--ha, ha, ha!--even
_I_--should have known better than that. What a little fool your
enterprising idiot must be!--with his work-baskets and currant jelly and
his trying to make the 'Herald' a daily!--It will be a ludicrous failure,
of course. No doubt he thought he was being quite wise, and was pleased
over his tariff editorials--his funny, funny editorials--his best--to
please you! Ha, ha, ha! How immensely funny!"

"Do you know him?" he asked abruptly.

"I have not the honor of the gentleman's acquaintance. Ah," she rejoined
bitterly, "I see what you mean; it is the old accusation, is it? I am a
woman, and I 'sound the personal note.' I could not resent a cruelty for
the sake of a man I do not know. But let it go. My resentment is personal,
after all, since it is against a man I do know--_you_!"