Mrs. Makely now came to my support. "The Americans are very high-spirited,
in every class, and I don't believe one of those nice farm-boys would like
being asked in any better than the young ladies. You can't imagine how
proud some of them are."

"So that they suffer from being excluded as inferiors?"

"Oh, I assure you they don't feel themselves inferior! They consider
themselves as good as anybody. There are some very interesting characters
among them. Now, there is a young girl sitting at the first window, with
her profile outlined by the light, whom I feel it an honor to speak to.
That's her brother, standing there with her--that tall, gaunt young man
with a Roman face; it's such a common type here in the mountains. Their
father was a soldier, and he distinguished himself so in one of the last
battles that he was promoted. He was badly wounded, but he never took a
pension; he just came back to his farm and worked on till he died. Now the
son has the farm, and he and his sister live there with their mother. The
daughter takes in sewing, and in that way they manage to make both ends
meet. The girl is really a first-rate seamstress, and so cheap! I give her
a good deal of my work in the summer, and we are quite friends. She's very
fond of reading; the mother is an invalid, but she reads aloud while the
daughter sews, and you've no idea how many books they get through. When
she comes for sewing, I like to talk with her about them; I always have
her sit down; it's hard to realize that she isn't a lady. I'm a good deal
criticised, I know, and I suppose I do spoil her a little; it puts notions
into such people's heads, if you meet them in that way; they're pretty
free and independent as it is. But when I'm with Lizzie I forget that
there is any difference between us; I can't help loving the child. You
must take Mr. Homos to see them, Mr. Twelvemough. They've got the father's