"One doesn't imagine such things as that, my dear fellow. One
imagines a heroine coming here, and having the most magnificent kind
of social career--lawn-parties, lunches, teas, dinners, picnics,
hops--and going back to De Witt Point with a dozen offers of
marriage. That's the kind of work the imagination does. But this
simple and appealing situation--this beautiful young girl, with her
poor little illusions, her secret hopes half hidden from herself,
her ignorant past, her visionary future--"

"Now, _I_ am going to tell you all about her, Mr. Kendricks," Mrs.
March broke in upon me, with defiance in her eye; and she flung out
the whole fact with a rapidity of utterance that would have left far
behind any attempt of mine. But I made no attempt to compete with
her; I contented myself with a sarcastic silence which I could see
daunted her a little at last.

"And all that we've done, my dear fellow"--I took in irony the word
she left to me--"is to load ourselves up with these two impossible
people, to go their security to destiny, and answer for their having
a good time. We're in luck."

"Why, I don't know," said Kendricks, and I could see that his fancy
was beginning to play with the situation; "I don't see why it isn't
a charming scheme."

"Of course it is," cried Mrs. March, taking a little heart from his
courage.

"We can't make out yet whether the girl is interesting," I put in