"On the lawns or on the ladies?" asked Sewell.

"Both. And sowing broadcast the seeds of plain speaking. I don't
know what Newport will be in another year if they all take root."

"I dare say it will be different," said Sewell. "I'm not sure it
will be worse." He plucked up a little spirit, and added: "Now you
see of how little importance you really are in the community; you
have been gone these three weeks, and your own pastor didn't know
you were out of town."

"Yes, you did, David," interposed his wife. "I told you Miss Vane
was away two weeks ago."

"Did you? Well I forgot it immediately; the fact was of no
consequence, one way or the other. How do you like that as a bit of
affectionate sincerity?"

"I like it immensely," said Miss Vane. "It's delicious. I only wish
I could believe you were honest." She leaned back and laughed into
her handkerchief, while Sewell regarded her with a face in which his
mortification at being laughed at was giving way to a natural
pleasure at seeing Miss Vane enjoy herself. "What do you think," she
asked, "since you're in this mood of exasperated veracity--or
pretend to be--of the flower charity?"

"Do you mean by the barrel, or the single sack? The Graham, or the
best Haxall, or the health-food cold-blast?" asked Sewell.

Miss Vane lost her power of answering in another peal of laughter,