took out of a little silver case, lighted, and began to smoke,
neither Mrs. Warrick nor Miss Keith answered, each waiting for the
other; but it did not matter, Miss French was looking at a photograph
in front of her. With lorgnette to her eyes, she examined it
critically.

"Rather a good picture of your brother, Hope. Didn't know he'd do
anything so human as have a picture taken." She took it up.
"Winthrop would hardly take prizes at a beauty show, but he's
certainly all there for something better. When did you get this?"

"A month ago, I guess." Mrs. Warrick took a log from the basket on
the hearth and put it on the andirons. "The editors of the Review
made him send his picture when that article of his came out on 'Tax
Terrors and Tax Traditions.' Channing says it's the best thing
that's been written on taxation for years, and in banking circles--"

"He's earned his pedestal." Miss French put down her cigarette and
handed the case to Claudia.

"Smoke?"

Claudia shook her head. "Thanks. I don't--"

"Pity. You've lots to learn yet. Most of you Southerners have, but
when you catch up you speed all right. I'll give you this for
nothing--don't toboggan all at once. Have you seen this picture of
Hope's crank of a brother? You needn't expect to meet him. He comes
of good Vermont stock, and its granite is no firmer than his
principles; but he has no manners. I've known him fifteen years and