them don't bear wine alike. It's mortifying to Mrs. Whitford, of
course, but she's a stately woman, you know, and sensitive about
proprieties."

Mr. Elliott did not wait for the lady's answer, but turned to
address another person who came forward at the moment to speak to
him.

"Sensitive about proprieties," said the lady to herself, with some
feeling, as she stood looking down the room to where Ellis Whitford
in a group of young men and women was giving vent to his exuberant
spirits more noisily than befitted the place and occasion. "Mr.
Elliott calls things by dainty names."

"I call that disgraceful," remarked an elderly lady, in a severe
tone, as if replying to the other's thought.

"Young men will become a little gay on these occasions," said the
person to whom she had spoken, with some irony in her tone. "So Mr.
Elliott says."

"Mr. Elliott!" There was a tone of bitterness and rejection in the
speaker's voice. "Mr. Elliott had better give our young men a safer
example than he does. A little gay! A little drunk would be nearer
the truth."

"Oh dear! such a vulgar word! We don't use it in good society, you
know. It belongs to taverns and drinking-saloons--to coarse, common
people. You must say 'a little excited,' 'a little gay,' but not
drunk. That's dreadful!"