"Like little Helen's kitten," said Philip. "She justly remarks
that, since I saw it last, it is all spoiled into a great big
cat."

"Those must be snobs," said Harry, as a carriage with unusually
gorgeous liveries rolled by.

"I suppose so," said Malbone, indifferently. "In Oldport we
call all new-comers snobs, you know, till they have invited us
to their grand ball. Then we go to it, and afterwards speak
well of them, and only abuse their wine."

"How do you know them for new-comers?" asked Hope, looking
after the carriage.

"By their improperly intelligent expression," returned Phil.
"They look around them as you do, my child, with the air of
wide-awake curiosity which marks the American traveller. That
is out of place here. The Avenue abhors everything but a
vacuum."

"I never can find out," continued Hope, "how people recognize
each other here. They do not look at each other, unless they
know each other: and how are they to know if they know, unless
they look first?"

"It seems an embarrassment," said Malbone. "But it is supposed
that fashion perforates the eyelids and looks through. If you
attempt it in any other way, you are lost. Newly arrived