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by little; when we get tired of one street we’ll go higher. So you see we’ll always have a new house; it’s a great advantage to have a new house; you get all the latest improvements. They invent everything all over again about every five years, and it’s a great thing to keep up with the new things. I always try and keep up with the new things of every kind. Don’t you think that’s a good motto for a young couple—to keep ‘going higher’? What’s the name of that piece of poetry—what do they call it?—‘Excelsior!’ ”
    Catherine bestowed on her junior visitor only just enough attention to feel that this was not the way Mr. Morris Townsend had talked the other night, or that he was talking now to her fortunate aunt. But suddenly his aspiring kinsman became more interesting. He seemed to have become conscious that she was affected by his companion’s presence, and he thought it proper to explain it.
    â€œMy cousin asked me to bring him, or I shouldn’t have taken the liberty. He seemed to want very much to come; you know he’s awfully sociable. I told him I wanted to ask you first, but he said Mrs. Penniman had invited him. He isn’t particular what he says when he wants to come somewhere. But Mrs. Penniman seems to think it’s all right.”
    â€œWe are very glad to see him,” said Catherine. And she wished to talk more about him, but she hardly knew what to say. “I never saw him before,” she went on, presently.
    Arthur Townsend stared.
    â€œWhy, he told me he talked with you for over half an hour the other night.”
    â€œI mean before the other night. That was the first time.”
    â€œOh, he has been away from New York—he has been all round the world. He doesn’t know many people here, but he’s very sociable, and he wants to know everyone.”
    â€œEveryone?” said Catherine.
    â€œWell, I mean all the good ones. All the pretty young ladies—like Mrs. Penniman!” And Arthur Townsend gave a private laugh.
    â€œMy aunt likes him very much,” said Catherine.
    â€œMost people like him—he’s so brilliant.”
    â€œHe’s more like a foreigner,” Catherine suggested.
    â€œWell, I never knew a foreigner,” said young Townsend, in a tone which seemed to indicate that his ignorance had been optional.
    â€œNeither have I,” Catherine confessed, with more humility. “They say they are generally brilliant,” she added, vaguely.
    â€œWell, the people of this city are clever enough for me. I know some of them that think they are too clever for me; but they ain’t.”
    â€œI suppose you can’t be too clever,” said Catherine, still with humility.
    â€œI don’t know. I know some people that call my cousin too clever.”
    Catherine listened to this statement with extreme interest, and a feeling that if Morris Townsend had a fault it would naturally be that one. But she did not commit herself, and in a moment she asked, “Now that he has come back, will he stay here always?”
    â€œAh,” said Arthur, “if he can’t get something to do.”
    â€œSomething to do?”
    â€œSome place or other; some business.”
    â€œHasn’t he got any?” said Catherine, who had never heard of a young man—of the upper class—in this situation.
    â€œNo, he’s looking round. But he can’t find anything.”
    â€œI am very sorry,” Catherine permitted herself to observe.
    â€œOh, he doesn’t mind,” said young Townsend. “He takes it easy—he isn’t in a hurry. He is very particular.”
    Catherine thought he naturally would be, and gave herself up for some moments to the contemplation of this idea, in several of its bearings.
    â€œWon’t his father take him into his business—his office?” she at last inquired.
    â€œHe hasn’t got any