Southern accent which she gave to her words. But it cannot. I could

easily misspell, if I chose; but how, even then, could I, for instance,
make you hear her way of saying "about"? "Aboot" would magnify it; and

besides, I decline to make ugly to the eye her quite special English,
that was so charming to the ear.

"Kings Port just knows all about you," she repeated with a sweet and
mocking laugh.

"Do you mind telling me how?"
She explained at once. "This place is death to all incognitos."

The explanation, however, did not, on the instant, enlighten me. "This?
The Woman's Exchange, you mean?"

"Why, to be sure! Have you not heard ladies talking together here?"
I blankly repealed her words. "Ladies talking?

She nodded.
"Oh!" I cried. "How dull of me! Ladies talking! Of course!"

She continued. "It was therefore widely known that you were consulting
our South Carolina archives at the library--and then that notebook you

bring marked you out the very first day. Why, two hours after your first
lunch we just knew all about you!"

"Dear me!" said I.
"Kings Port is ever ready to discuss strangers," she further explained.

"The Exchange has been going on five years, and the resident families
have discussed each other so thoroughly here that everything is known;

therefore a stranger is a perfect boon." Her gayety for a moment
interrupted her, before she continued, always mocking and always sweet:

"Kings Port cannot boast intelligence offices for servants; but if you
want to know the character and occupation of your friends, come to the

Exchange!" How I wish I could give you the raciness, the contagion, of
her laughter! Who would have dreamed that behind her primness all this

frolic lay in ambush? "Why," she said, "I'm only a plantation girl; it's
my first week here, and I know every wicked deed everybody as done since

1812!"
She went back to her counter. It had been very merry; and as I was

settling the small debt for my lunch I asked: "Since this is the proper
place for information, will you kindly tell me whose wedding that cake is

for?"
She was astonished." You don't know? And I thought you were quite a

clever Ya--I beg your pardon--Northerner.
"Please tell me, since I know you're quite a clever Reb--I beg your

pardon--Southerner."
"Why, it's his own! Couldn't you see that from his bashfulness?"

"Ordering his own wedding cake?" Amazement held me. But the door opened,
one of the elderly ladies entered, the girl behind the counter stiffened

to primness in a flash, and I went out into Royal Street as the curly
dog's tail wagged his greeting to the newcomer.

III: Kings Port Talks
Of course I had at once left the letters of introduction which Aunt

Carola had given me; but in my ignorance of Kings Port hours I had found
everybody at dinner when I made my first round of calls between half-past

three and five--an experience particularly regrettable, since I had
hurried my own dinner on purpose, not then aware that the hours at my

boarding-house were the custom of the whole town. (These hours even since
my visit to Kings Port, are beginning to change. But such backsliding is

much condemned.) Upon an afternoon some days later, having seen in the
extra looking-glass, which I had been obliged to provide for myself, that

the part in my back hair was perfect, I set forth again, better informed.
As I rang the first doorbell, another visitor came up the steps, a

beautiful old lady in widow's dress, a cardcase in her hand.
"Have you rung, sir?" said she, in a manner at once gentle and

voluminous.
"Yes, madam."

Nevertheless she pulled it again. "It doesn't always ring," she explained,
"unless one is accustomed to it, which you are not."

She addressed me with authority, exactly like Aunt Carola, and with even
greater precision in her good English and good enunciation. Unlike the

girl at the Exchange, she had no accent; her language was simply the
perfection of educated utterance; it also was racy with the free

censoriousness which civilized people of consequence are apt to exercise
the world over. "I was sorry to miss your visit," she began (she knew me,

you see, perfectly); "you will please to come again soon, and console me
for my disappointment. I am Mrs. Gregory St. Michael, and my house is in

Le Maire Street (Pronounced in Kings Port, Lammarree) as you have been so
civil as to find out. And how does your Aunt Carola do in these

contemptible times? You can tell her from me that vulgarization is
descending, even upon Kings Port."

"I cannot imagine that!" I exclaimed.
"You cannot imagine it because you don't know anything about it, young

gentleman! The manners of some of our own young people will soon be as
dishevelled as those in New York. Have you seen our town yet, or is it

all books with you? You should not leave without a look at what is still
left of us. I shall be happy if you will sit in my pew on Sunday morning.

Your Northern shells did their best in the bombardment--did you say that
you rang? I think you had better pull it again; all the way out; yes,

like that--in the bombardment, but we have our old church still, in spite
of you. Do you see the crack in that wall? The earthquake did it. You're

spared earthquakes in the North, as you seem to be spared pretty much
everything disastrous--except the prosperity that's going to ruin you

all. We're better off with our poverty than you. Just ring the bell once
more, and then we'll go. I fancy Julia--I fancy Mrs. Weguelin St.

Michael--has run out to stare at the Northern steam yacht in the harbor.
It would be just like her. This house is historic itself. Shabby enough

now, to be sure! The great-aunt of my cousin, John Mayrant (who is going
to be married next Wednesday, to such a brute of a girl, poor boy!),

lived here in 1840, and made an answer to the Earl of Mainridge that put
him in his place. She was our famous Kings Port wit, and at the reception

which her father (my mother's uncle) gave the English visitor, he
conducted himself as so many Englishmen seem to think they can in this

country. Miss Beaufain (pronounced in Kings Port, Bowfayne), as she was
then, asked the Earl how he liked America; and he replied, very well,

except for the people, who were so vulgar. 'What can you expect?' said
Miss Beaufain; 'we're descended from the English.' Mrs. St. Michael is

out, and the servant has gone home. Slide this card under the door, with
your own, and come away."

She took me with her, moving through the quiet South Place with a
leisurely grace and dignity at which my spirit rejoiced; she was so

beautiful, and so easy, and afraid of nothing and nobody! (This must be
modified. I came later to suspect that they all stood in some dread of

their own immediate families.)
In the North, everybody is afraid of something: afraid of the

legislature, afraid of the trusts, afraid of the strikes, afraid of what
the papers will say, of what the neighbors will say, of what the cook

will say; and most of all, and worst of all, afraid to be different from
the general pattern, afraid to take a step or speak a syllable that shall

cause them to be thought unlike the monotonous millions of their
fellow-citizens; the land of the free living in ceaseless fear! Well, I

was already afraid of Mrs. Gregory St. Michael. As we walked and she
talked, I made one or two attempts at conversation, and speedily found

that no such thing was the lady's intention: I was there to listen; and
truly I could wish nothing more agreeable, in spite of my desire to hear

further about next Wednesday's wedding and the brute of a girl. But to
this subject Mrs. St. Michael did not return. We crossed Worship Street

and Chancel Street, and were nearing the East Place where a cannon was
being shown me, a cannon with a history and an inscriptionconcerning the

"war for Southern independence, which I presume your prejudice calls the
Rebellion," said my guide. "There's Mrs. St. Michael now, coming round

the corner. Well, Julia, could you read the yacht's name with your naked
eye? And what's the name of the gambler who owns it? He's a gambler, or

he couldn't own a yacht--unless his wife's a gambler's daughter."
"How well you're feeling to-day, Maria!" said the other lady, with a