"The frump is going at last," said Josephine, in an undertone, as the
ancient friend rose and showed signs of taking leave of Miss Schenectady.

"There is certainly no mistake about the frankness of that speech," said
John, rising to his feet and laughing again.

"There is no mistaking its truth," answered Josephine. "She is the real
thing--the real old-fashioned frump--we have lots of them at home."

"You remind me of Heine," said John. "He said he called a spade a spade,
and Herr Schmidt an ass."

Miss Thorn laughed. "Exactly," she answered, "that is the knowledge of men
which you say leads to power."

She rose also, and there was a little stir as the old lady departed.
Josephine watched John as he bowed and opened the door of the room to let
the visitor out. She wondered vaguely whether she would like him, whether
he might not really be a remarkable man--a fact she doubted in proportion
as her aunt assured her of its truth; she liked his looks and tried to
determine whether he was handsome or not, and she watched closely for any
awkwardness or shyness of manner, that being the fault in a man which she
never pardoned.

He was very different from the men she had generally known, and most
completely different from those she had known as her admirers. In fact she
had never admired her admirers at all,--except dear Ronald, of course.
They competed with her on her own ground, and she knew well enough she was
more than a match for any of them. Ronald was different; she had known him