in my hand."

"That's true," said Mrs. Ellison gravely, with an accent of reproval for
the others who had not thought of so simple a solution of the problem,
"very true."

The colonel looked into her face with an air of well-feigned alarm. "You
don't think the sprain has gone to your head, Fanny?" he asked, and
walked away, leaving Mr. Arbuton to the ladies. Mrs. Ellison did not
care for this or any other gibe, if she but served her own purposes; and
now, having made everybody laugh and given the conversation a lively
turn, she was as perfectly content as if she had not been herself an
offering to the cause of cheerfulness. She was, indeed, equal to any
sacrifice in the enterprise she had undertaken, and would not only have
given Kitty all her worldly goods, but would have quite effaced herself
to further her own designs upon Mr. Arbuton. She turned again to her
guide-book, and left the young people to continue the talk in unbroken
gayety. They at once became serious, as most people do after a hearty
laugh, which, if you think, seems always to have something strange and
sad in it. But besides, Kitty was oppressed by the coldness that seemed
perpetually to hover in Mr. Arbuton's atmosphere, while she was
interested by his fastidious good looks and his blameless manners and
his air of a world different from any she had hitherto known. He was one
of those men whose perfection makes you feel guilty of misdemeanor
whenever they meet you, and whose greeting turns your honest good-day
coarse and common; even Kitty's fearless ignorance and more than Western
disregard of dignities were not proof against him. She had found it easy
to talk with Mrs. March as she did with her cousin at home: she liked to
be frank and gay in her parley, to jest and to laugh and to make
harmless fun, and to sentimentalize in a half-earnest way; she liked to