the parlor.

There were several new lessons set for Miss Gracie Dennis to learn that
evening. One was that Professor Ellis, with his faultless dress and
excessive politeness, his finished bows and smiles, that would have done
credit to any ball-room in the land, his accurate knowledge of all the
printed rules of etiquette, yet in Mrs. Roberts' parlor, contrasted with
Dr. Everett, and even with young Ried, the dry-goods clerk, appeared at
a disadvantage.

She was slow in learning the lesson: on that first evening she simply
stared at it in bewilderment. What did it mean? There was an attempt to
draw the professor into the circle, to continue the conversation that
had been so animated and interesting before his entrance. The effect was
much like that produced in striking a discordant note in a hitherto
faultless piece of music. Young men out of business needing help,
needing an encouraging word, an out-stretched hand! Professor Ellis had
words, and hands, but he might have been without either for all the help
they gave him in responding to efforts like these. Books to help uplift
the young, to give them high ideas of life, to enthuse them with
desires to live for a purpose! Truly he could only stare blankly at the
suggestion. What did he know of books written for such purposes? Yet
Gracie had supposed him to be literary in his tastes and pursuits.
Certainly he read French? Yes, French novels! He was quite familiar with
some of such a character that, had Gracie been a good French scholar and
ever likely to come in contact with a copy of them, he would not have
dared to mention their names in her presence. More than once of late had
the stepmother wished that her young daughter understood the language
well enough to be aware that the man whom she admired used frequently
smooth-sounding French oaths. But alas for Gracie, when he had so