eyes, readjusted it in the little, cheap, black-framed mirror that hung
against the wall, and opened the door as the granddaughter returned. The
gentleman was just coming from the station.
"Remember to look out for me at York," said Miss Desborough, extending
her gloved hand. "Good-by till then." The young girl respectfully
touched the ends of Miss Desborough's fingers, dropped a curtsy, and
Miss Desborough rejoined the consul.
"You have barely time to return to the Priory and see to your luggage,"
said the consul, "if you must go. But let me hope that you have changed
your mind."
"I have not changed my mind," said Miss Desborough quietly, "and my
baggage is already packed." After a pause, she said thoughtfully, "I've
been wondering"--
"What?" said the consul eagerly.
"I've been wondering if people brought up to speak in a certain dialect,
where certain words have their own significance and color, and are part
of their own lives and experience--if, even when they understand another
dialect, they really feel any sympathy with it, or the person who speaks
it?"
"Apropos of"--asked the consul.
"These people I've just left! I don't think I quite felt with them, and
I guess they didn't feel with me."
"But," said the consul laughingly, "you know that we Americans speak
with a decided dialect of our own, and attach the same occult meaning to
it. Yet, upon my word, I think that Lord Beverdale--or shall I say Lord
Algernon?--would not only understand that American word 'guess' as you
mean it, but would perfectly sympathize with you."
Miss Desborough's eyes sparkled even through her veil as she glanced at
her companion and said, "I GUESS NOT."
As the "tea" party had not yet returned, it fell to the consul to
accompany Miss Desborough and her maid to the station. But here he was
startled to find a collection of villagers upon the platform, gathered
round two young women in mourning, and an ominous-looking box.
He mingled for a moment with the crowd, and then returned to Miss
Desborough's side.
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