after all, I wondered if they were so bad. If I'd been at a dinner
at a palace in Italy, and a relief or inscription on one of the old
silver pieces had referred to some great deed or achievement of the
family, I shouldn't have felt superior; I'd have thought it
picturesque and stately--I'd have been impressed. And what's the
real difference? The icing is temporary, and that's much more modest,
isn't it? And why is it vulgar to feel important more on account of
something you've done yourself than because of something one of your
ancestors did? Besides, if we go back a few generations, we've all
got such hundreds of ancestors it seems idiotic to go picking out one
or two to be proud of ourselves about. Well, then, mamma, I managed
not to feel superior to Mr. James Sheridan, Junior, because he didn't
see anything out of place in the Sheridan Building in sugar."

Mrs. Vertrees's expression had lost none of its anxiety pending the
conclusion of this lively bit of analysis, and she shook her head
gravely. "My dear, dear child," she said, "it seems to me--It looks
--I'm afraid--"

"Say as much of it as you can, mamma," said Mary, encouragingly.
"I can get it, if you'll just give me one key-word."

"Everything you say," Mrs. Vertrees began, timidly, "seems to have
the air of--it is as if you were seeking to--to make yourself--"

"Oh, I see! You mean I sound as if I were trying to force myself
to like him."

"Not exactly, Mary. That wasn't quite what I meant," said Mrs.
Vertrees, speaking direct untruth with perfect unconsciousness.