“Poor Mr. Boardman!” said Mrs. Pasmer.
“It didn't hurt him a bit,” said Mavering, pushing him. “He liked it.”
“Of course he did,” said Mrs. Pasmer, implying, in flattery of Mavering, that Boardman might be glad of the distinction; and now Boardman looked as if he were not. She began to get away in adding, “But I wonder you don't kill each other.”
“Oh, we're not so easily killed,” said Mavering.
“And what a fairy scene it was at the spread!” said Mrs. Pasmer, turning to Boardman. She had already talked its splendours over with Mavering the same evening. “I thought we should never get out of the Hall; but when we did get out of the window upon that tapestried platform, and down on the tennis-ground, with Turkey rugs to hide the bare spots in it—” She stopped as people do when it is better to leave the effect to the listener's imagination.
“Yes, I think it was rather nice,” said Boardman.
“Nice?” repeated Mrs. Pasmer; and she looked at Mavering. “Is that the famous Harvard Indifferentism?”
“No, no, Mrs. Pasmer! It's just his personal envy. He wasn't in the spread, and of course he doesn't like to hear any one praise it. Go on!” They all laughed.
“Well, even Mr. Boardman will admit,” said Mrs. Pasmer; “that nothing could have been prettier than that pavilion at the bottom of the lawn, and the little tables scattered about over it, and all those charming young creatures under that lovely evening sky.”
“Ah! Even Boardman can't deny that. We did have the nicest crowd; didn't we?”
“Well,” said Mrs. Pasmer, playfully checking herself in a ready adhesion, “that depends a good deal upon where Mr. Boardman's spread was.”
“Thank you,” said Boardman.
“He wasn't spreading anywhere,” cried his friend. “Except himself—he was spreading himself everywhere.”
“Then I think I should prefer to remain neutral,” said Mrs. Pasmer, with a mock prudence which pleased the young men. In
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