Part 19 (1/2)

”I have been doing Boston,” he said. ”Of course it was the proper thing.

But I am afraid I do not know much about it.”

”But do you like it?” she asked. ”It is much more important, I think, to know whether you like things or dislike them, than to know everything about them. Do not you think so?”

”Oh, of course,” said Ronald. ”But I like Boston very much; I mean the part where you live. All this, you know--Commonwealth Place, and the Public Park, you know, and Beacon Avenue, of course, very much. But the city”--

”You do not like the city?” suggested Sybil, seeing he hesitated, and smiling at his strange confusion of names.

”No,” said Ronald. ”I think it is so cramped and ugly, and all little narrow streets. But then, of course, it is such a little place. You get into the country the moment you walk anywhere.”

”It seems very big to the Bostonians,” said Sybil, laughing.

”Oh, of course. You have lived here all your life, and so it is quite different.”

”I? Dear me no! I am not a Bostonian at all.”

”Oh,” said Ronald, ”I thought you were. That was the reason I was not sure of abusing the city to you. But it is not a bad place, I should think, when you know lots of people, and that was such a pretty drive we went yesterday.”

”Yes, it must seem very new to you. Everything must, I should think, most of all this casual way we have of receiving people. But there really is a Mrs. Wyndham, with whom I am staying, and she will be in before long.”

”Oh--don't--don't mention her,” said Ronald, hastily, ”I mean it--it is of no importance whatever, you know.” He blushed violently.

Sybil laughed, and Ronald blushed again, but in all his embarra.s.sment lie could not help thinking what a silvery ring there was in her voice.

”I am afraid Mrs. Wyndham would not like it, if she heard you telling me she was not to be mentioned, and was not of any importance whatever. But she is a very charming woman, and I am very fond of her.”

”She is your aunt, I presume, Miss Brandon?” said Ronald.

”My aunt?” repeated Sybil. ”Oh no, not at all--only a friend.”

”Oh, I thought all unattached young ladies lived with aunts here, like Miss Schenectady.” Ronald smiled grimly at the recollections of the previous day.

”Not quite that,” said Sybil, laughing. ”Mrs. Wyndham is not the least like Miss Schenectady. She is less clever and more human.”

”Really, I am so glad,” said Ronald. ”And she talks so oddly--Joe's--Miss Thorn's aunt. Could you tell me, if it is not a rude question, why so many people here are never certain of anything? It strikes me as so absurdly ridiculous, you know. She said yesterday that 'perhaps, if I rang the bell, she could send a message.' And the man at the hotel this morning had no postage stamps, and said that perhaps if I went to the General Post Office I might be able to get some there.”

”Yes,” said Sybil, ”it is absurd, and one catches it so easily.”

”But would it not be ridiculous if the guard called out at a station, 'Perhaps this is Boston!' or 'Perhaps this is New York?' It would be too utterly funny.”

”I am afraid that if you begin to make a list of our peculiarities yon will find funnier things than that,” said Sybil, laughing. ”But then we always laugh at you in England, so that it is quite fair.”

”Oh, we are very absurd, I know,” said Ronald, ”but I think we are much more comfortable. For instance, we do not have n.i.g.g.e.rs about who call us 'Mister.'”

”You must not use such words in Boston, Mr. Surbiton,” said Sybil.

”Seriously, there are people who would be very much offended. You must speak of 'waiters of color,' or 'the colored help;' you must be very careful.”

”I will,” said Ronald. ”Thanks. Is everything rechristened in that way? I am afraid I shall always be in hot water.”

”Oh yes, there are no men and women here. They are all ladies and gentlemen, or 'the gurls,' and 'the fellows.' But it is very soon learnt.”