"you are now witnessing an impressive example of the politeness of true
friendship. There are cynics who assert that the American people are
lacking in courtesy, and cast in our teeth the superiority of Japanese
manners. I wish they were here to-night. There is not a single
individual present, male or female, married or single, who does not
secretly cherish the amiable belief that he or she can cook things on a
blazer better than any one else. And yet we abstain from criticism; we
offer no suggestions; we accept, without a murmur, the proportions of
cheese and beer and butter inflicted upon us by our hostess and her
brother, and are silent. We shall even become complimentary later. Can
the Japanese vie with this?"

The contrast between his eager, grave gaze, and the levity of his words,
puzzled Selma. He looked interesting, but his speech seemed to her
trivial and unworthy of the occasion. Still she appreciated that she
must not be a spoil-sport, and that it was incumbent on her to resign
herself to the situation, so she smiled gayly, and said: "I am the only
one then not suffering from self-restraint. I never made a Welsh rabbit,
nor cooked on a blazer." Then, in her desire for more serious
conversation, she added: "Do you really think that we, as a people, are
less polite than the Japanese?"

The doctor regarded her with solemn interest for an instant, as though
he were pondering the question. As a matter of fact, he was thinking
that she was remarkably pretty. Then he put his finger on his lips, and
in a hoarse whisper, said, "Sh! Be careful. If the editorial ear should
catch your proposition the editorial man would appropriate it. There!"
he added, as her left-hand neighbor bent toward them in response to the
summons, "he has heard, and your opportunity to sell an idea to the
magazine is lost. It is all very fine for him to protest that he has