"We are very crude," she softly observed—"we are very crude." Lest even this delicately-uttered statement should seem to savour of the vice that she deprecated, she went on to explain. "There are two classes of minds, you know—those that hold back, and those that push forward. My daughter and I are not pushers; we move with little steps. We like the old, trodden paths; we like the old, old world."
"Ah," said I, "you know what you like; there is a great virtue in that."
"Yes, we like Europe; we prefer it. We like the opportunities of Europe; we like the rest. There is so much in that, you know. The world seems to me to be hurrying, pressing forward so fiercely, without knowing where it is going. 'Whither?' I often ask, in my little quiet way. But I have yet to learn that any one can tell me."
"You're a great conservative," I observed, while I wondered whether I myself could answer this inquiry.
Mrs. Church gave me a smile which was equivalent to a confession. "I wish to retain a little—just a little. Surely, we have done so much, we
