Part 15 (1/2)
”No. Take what you have seen and make the most of it.”
”I don't think I have judgment,” said Lois. ”About people, I mean, and men especially. I am not accustomed to New York people, besides.”
”Are they different from Shampuashuh people?”
”O, very.”
”How?”
”Miss Caruthers asked me the same thing,” said Lois, smiling. ”I suppose at bottom all people are alike; indeed, I know they are. But in the country I think they show out more.”
”Less disguise about them?”
”I think so.”
”My dear, are we such a set of masqueraders in your eyes?”
”No,” said Lois; ”I did not mean that.”
”What do you think of Philip Dillwyn? Comare him with young Caruthers.”
”I cannot,” said Lois. ”Mr. Dillwyn strikes me as a man who knows everything there is in all the world.”
”And Tom, you think, does not?”
”Not so much,” said, Lois hesitating; ”at least he does not impress me so.”
”You are more impressed with Mr. Dillwyn?”
”In what way?” said Lois simply. ”I am impressed with the sense of my own ignorance. I should be oppressed by it, if it was my fault.”
”Now you speak like a sensible girl, as you are. Lois, men do not care about women knowing much.”
”Sensible men must.”
”They are precisely the ones who do not. It is odd enough, but it is a fact. But go on; which of these two do you like best?”
”I have seen most of Mr. Caruthers, you know. But, Mrs. Wishart, sensible men _must_ like sense in other people.”
”Yes, my dear; they do; unless when they want to marry the people; and then their choice very often lights upon a fool. I have seen it over and over and over again; the clever one of a family is pa.s.sed by, and a silly sister is the one chosen.”
”Why?”
”A pink and white skin, or a pair of black eyebrows, or perhaps some soft blue eyes.”
”But people cannot live upon a pair of black eyebrows,” said Lois.
”They find that out afterwards.”
”Mr. Dillwyn talks as if he liked sense,” said Lois. ”I mean, he talks about sensible things.”