"What?"
"What do you think of her?"
"Who?"
"Miss--you know. Isabel."
"Oh, I don't know," responded Juliet, sleepily. "I guess she's kind of a
sissy-girl."
V
AN AFTERNOON CALL
"Aunt Francesca," asked Isabel, "is Colonel Kent rich?"
"Very," responded Madame. She had a fine damask napkin stretched upon
embroidery hoops and was darning it with the most exquisite of stitches.
"Then why don't they live in a better house and have more servants? That
place is old and musty."
"Perhaps they like to live there, and, again, perhaps they haven't
enough money to change. Besides, that has been Colonel Kent's home ever
since he was married. Allison was born there."
Isabel fidgeted in her chair. "If they're very rich, I should think
they'd have enough money to enable them to move into a better house."
"Oh," replied Madame, carefully cutting her thread on the underside, "I
wasn't thinking of money when I spoke. I don't know anything about their
private affairs. But Colonel Kent has courage, sincerity, an old-
fashioned standard of honour, many friends, and a son who is a great
artist.
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