Mrs. Heeny gave the discouraged gesture of a pedagogue who has vainly
striven to implant the rudiments of knowledge in a rebellious mind.

"Why, Undine Spragg, I've told you all about them time and again!
His mother was a Dagonet. They live with old Urban Dagonet down in
Washington Square."

To Mrs. Spragg this conveyed even less than to her daughter, "'way down
there? Why do they live with somebody else? Haven't they got the means
to have a home of their own?"

Undine's perceptions were more rapid, and she fixed her eyes searchingly
on Mrs. Heeny.

"Do you mean to say Mr. Marvell's as swell as Mr. Popple?"

"As swell? Why, Claud Walsingham Popple ain't in the same class with
him!"

The girl was upon her mother with a spring, snatching and smoothing out
the crumpled note.

"Laura Fairford--is that the sister's name?"

"Mrs. Henley Fairford; yes. What does she write about?"

Undine's face lit up as if a shaft of sunset had struck it through the
triple-curtained windows of the Stentorian.

"She says she wants me to dine with her next Wednesday. Isn't it queer?