There had been several little neighborhood entertainments, dinners at the
Morgans' and at Mrs. Fletcher's, and an evening cup of tea at Miss
Forsythe's. In fact Margaret and Mr. Lyon had been thrown much together.
He had accompanied her to vespers, and they had taken a wintry walk or
two together before the snow came. My wife had not managed it--she
assured me of that; but she had not felt authorized to interfere; and she
had visited the public library and looked into the British Peerage. Men
were so suspicious. Margaret was quite able to take care of herself. I
admitted that, but I suggested that the Englishman was a stranger in a
strange land, that he was far from home, and had perhaps a weakened sense
of those powerful social influences which must, after all, control him in
the end. The only response to this was, "I think, dear, you'd better wrap
him up in cotton and send him back to his family."

Among her other activities Margaret was interested in a mission school in
the city, to which she devoted an occasional evening and Sunday
afternoons. This was a new surprise for Mr. Lyon. Was this also a part of
the restlessness of American life? At Mrs. Howe's german the other
evening the girl had seemed wholly absorbed in dress, and the gayety of
the serious formality of the occasion, feeling the responsibility of it
scarcely less than the "leader." Yet her mind was evidently much occupied
with the "condition of women," and she taught in a public school. He
could not at all make it out. Was she any more serious about the german
than about the mission school? It seemed odd at her age to take life so
seriously. And was she serious in all her various occupations, or only
experimenting? There was a certain mocking humor in the girl that puzzled
the Englishman still more.

"I have not seen much of your life," he said one night to Mr. Morgan;
"but aren't most American women a little restless, seeking an