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MRS. CAMPBELL,sinking into her seat: “Oh, Willis, how can you be so base? Give me my letters. Do!”

CAMPBELL,sorting them over: “You may have half.”

MRS. CAMPBELL:“No; I shall have all. I insist upon it.”

CAMPBELL:“Well, then, you may have all the ladies’ letters. There are twice as many of them.”

MRS. CAMPBELL:“No; I shall have the men’s, too. Give me the men’s first.”

CAMPBELL:“How can I tell which are the men’s without opening them?”

MRS. CAMPBELL:“How could you tell which were the ladies’? Come, now, Willis, don’t tease me any longer. You know I hate it.”

CAMPBELL,studying the superscriptions, one after another: “I want to see if I can guess who wrote them. Don’t you like to guess who wrote your letters before you open them?”

MRS. CAMPBELL,with dignity: “I don’t like to guess who wrote other people’s letters.” She looks down at the table-cloth with a menace of tears, and Campbell instantly returns all the notes.

CAMPBELL:“There, Amy; you may have them. I don’t care who wrote them, nor what’s in them. And I don’t want you to interrupt me with any exclamations over them, if you please.” He reaches to the floor for his newspaper, and while he sips his coffee, Mrs. Campbell loses no time in opening her letters.

MRS. CAMPBELL:“I shall do nothing but exclaim. The Curwens accept, of course–the very first letter. That means Mrs. Curwen; that is one, at any rate. The New York Addingses do, and the Philadelphia Addingses don’t; I hardly expected they would, so soon after their aunt’s death, but I thought I ought to ask them. Mr. and Mrs. Roberts, naturally; it was more a joke than anything, sending their invitation. Mrs. and the Misses Carver regret very much; well, I don’t. Professor and Mrs. Traine are very happy, and so am I; he doesn’t go everywhere, and he’s awfully nice. Mr. and Mrs. Lou Bemis are very happy, too, and Dr. Lawton is very happy. Mrs. Bridges Dear Mrs. Campbells me, and is very sorry in the first person; she’s always nice. Mr. Phillips, Mr. Rangeley, Mr. Small, Mr. Peters, Mr. Staples, Mr. Thornton, all accept, and they’re all charming young fellows.”

CAMPBELL,around his paper: “Well, what of that?”

MRS. CAMPBELL,with an air of busy preoccupation: “Don’t eavesdrop, please; I wasn’t talking to you. The Merrills have the pleasure, and the Morgans are sorrow-stricken; the–“

CAMPBELL:“Yes, but why should you care whether those fellows are charming or not? Who’s going to marry them?”

MRS. CAMPBELL:“I am. Mrs. Stevenson is bowed to the earth; Colonel Murphree is overjoyed; the Misses Ja–“

CAMPBELL,putting his paper down: “Look here, Amy. Do you know that you have one little infinitesimal ewe-lamb of a foible? You think too much of young men.”

MRS. CAMPBELL:“Younger men, you mean. And you have a multitude of perfectly mammoth peccadilloes. You interrupt.” She goes on opening and reading her letters. “Well, I didn’t expect the Macklines could; but everybody seems to be coming.”

CAMPBELL:“You pay them too much attention altogether. It spoils them; and one of these days you’ll be getting some of them in love with you, and then what will you do?”

MRS. CAMPBELL,with affected distraction: “What are you talking about? I’d refer them to you, and you could kill them. I suppose you killed lots of people in California. That’s what you always gave me to understand.” She goes on with her letters.

CAMPBELL:“I never killed a single human being that I can remember; but there’s no telling what I might do if I were provoked. Now, there’s that young Welling. He’s about here under my feet all the time; and he’s got a way lately of coming in through the window from the piazza that’s very intimate. He’s a nice fellow enough, and sweet, as you say. I suppose he has talent, too, but I never heard that he had set any of the adjacent watercourses on fire; and I don’t know that he could give the Apollo Belvedere many points in beauty and beat him.”