"Undoubtedly he was," said Miss Bartlett.

"Mr. Beebe has just been scolding me for my suspicious nature. Of
course, I was holding back on my cousin's account."

"Of course," said the little old lady; and they murmured that one
could not be too careful with a young girl.

Lucy tried to look demure, but could not help feeling a great
fool. No one was careful with her at home; or, at all events, she
had not noticed it.

"About old Mr. Emerson--I hardly know. No, he is not tactful;
yet, have you ever noticed that there are people who do things
which are most indelicate, and yet at the same time--beautiful?"

"Beautiful?" said Miss Bartlett, puzzled at the word. "Are not
beauty and delicacy the same?"

"So one would have thought," said the other helplessly. "But
things are so difficult, I sometimes think."

She proceeded no further into things, for Mr. Beebe reappeared,
looking extremely pleasant.

"Miss Bartlett," he cried, "it's all right about the rooms. I'm
so glad. Mr. Emerson was talking about it in the smoking-room,
and knowing what I did, I encouraged him to make the offer again.
He has let me come and ask you. He would be so pleased."