She paused, but without forcing a response, proceeded blithely to touch on her past by way of illustration.  The war had come just when she was grown up, and her kin in Maryland were divided on the issue.  Her father had taken his family abroad, but her heart was in the keeping of a young officer on the Northern side—­now her husband.  Loss of property and bitterness of spirit had kept her parents expatriated, and she, with them, had journeyed from place to place in Europe.  She had seen many beautiful places and beautiful things.  At last Major Taylor had come for her and carried her off as his bride to take up again her life as an American.

“I am interested in Benham,” she continued, “and I count on you, Mrs. Babcock, to help make the new church what it ought to be artistically—­worthy of all the energy and independence there is in this place.”

Selma’s eye kindled.  The allusion to foreign lands had aroused her distrust, but this patriotic avowal warmed her pulses.

“Every one is so busy with private affairs here, owing to the rapid growth of the city,” pursued Mrs. Taylor, “that there is danger of our doing inconsiderately things which cannot easily be set right hereafter.  An ugly or tawdry-looking building may be an eyesore for a generation.  I know that we have honest and skilful mechanics in Benham, but as trustees of the church funds, shouldn’t we at least make the effort to get the best talent there is?  If we have the cleverest architect here, so much the better.  An open competition will enable us to find out.  After all Benham is only one city among many, and a very new city.  Why shouldn’t we take advantage of the ideas of the rest of the country—­the older portion of the country?”

“Mr. Pierce built our house, and we think it very satisfactory and pretty.”

Selma’s tone was firm, but she eyed her hostess narrowly.  She had begun of late to distrust the aesthetic worth of the colored glass and metal stag, and, though she was on her guard against effrontery, she wished to know the truth.  She knew that Mr. Pierce, with fine business instinct, had already conveyed to her husband the promise that he should furnish the varnish for the new church in case of his own selection, which, as Babcock had remarked, would be a nice thing all round.

Mrs. Taylor underwent the scrutiny without flinching.  “I have nothing to say against Mr. Pierce.  He is capable within his lights.  Indeed I think it quite possible that we shall get nothing more satisfactory elsewhere.  Mr. Flagg’s grim pile is anything but encouraging.  That may sound like an argument against my plan, but in the case of the Flagg house there was no competition; merely unenlightened choice on the one side and ignorant experimenting on the other.”

“You don’t seem to think very highly of the appearance of Benham,” said Selma.  The remark was slightly interrogative, but was combative withal.  She wished to know if everything, from the Flagg mansion down, was open to criticism, but she would fain question the authority of the censor—­this glib, graceful woman whose white, starched cuffs seemed to make light of her own sober, unadorned wrists.