A painter I know was once importuned for a sketch by a lady of this
class. After many delays and renewed demands he presented her one
day, when she and some friends were visiting his studio, with a
delightful open-air study simply framed. She seemed confused at
the offering, to his astonishment, as she had not lacked APLOMB in
asking for the sketch. After much blushing and fumbling she
succeeded in getting the painting loose, and handing back the
frame, remarked:

"I will take the painting, but you must keep the frame. My husband
would never allow me to accept anything of value from you!" - and
smiled on the speechless painter, doubtless charmed with her own
tact.

Complacent people are the same drag on a society that a brake would
be to a coach going up hill. They are the "eternal negative" and
would extinguish, if they could, any light stronger than that to
which their weak eyes have been accustomed. They look with
astonishment and distrust at any one trying to break away from
their tiresome old ways and habits, and wonder why all the world is
not as pleased with their personalities as they are themselves,
suggesting, if you are willing to waste your time listening to
their twaddle, that there is something radically wrong in any
innovation, that both "Church and State" will be imperilled if
things are altered. No blight, no mildew is more fatal to a plant
than the "complacent" are to the world. They resent any progress
and are offended if you mention before them any new standards or
points of view. "What has been good enough for us and our parents
should certainly be satisfactory to the younger generations." It
seems to the contented like pure presumption on the part of their