“Unmanly!” cried Clarence, flushing.

“Yes.  I call it unmanly to tease and quarrel, and contradict like that.  It’s like girls.  They do it sometimes, but I didn’t think a boy would.  I thought he’d be ashamed!”

“Doesn’t Dorry ever quarrel or tease?” asked Clarence, who liked to hear about Clover’s brothers and sisters.

“Not now, and never in that way.  He used to sometimes when he was little, but now he’s real nice.  He wouldn’t speak to a girl as you speak to Lilly for any thing in the world.  He’d think it wasn’t being a gentleman.”

“Stuff about gentleman, and all that!” retorted Clarence.  “Mother dings the word in my ears till I hate it!”

“Well, it is rather teasing to be reminded all the time, I admit; but you can’t wonder that your mother wants you to be a gentleman, Clarence.  It’s the best thing in the world, I think.  I hope Phil and Dorry will grow up just like papa, for everybody says he’s the most perfect gentleman, and it makes me so proud to hear them.”

“But what does it mean any way!  Mother says it’s how you hold your fork, and how you chew, and how you put on your hat.  If that’s all, I don’t think it amounts to much.”

“Oh, that isn’t all.  It’s being gentle, don’t you see?  Gentle and nice to everybody, and just as polite to poor people as to rich ones,” said Clover, talking fast, in her eagerness to explain her meaning,—­ “and never being selfish, or noisy, or pushing people out of their place.  Forks, and hats, and all that are only little ways of making one’s self more agreeable to other people.  A gentleman is a gentleman inside,—­all through!  Oh, I wish I could make you see what I mean!”

“Oh, that’s it, is it?” said Clarence.  Whether he understood or not, Clover could not tell; or whether she had done any good or not; but she had the discretion to say no more; and certainly Clarence was not offended, for after that day he grew fonder of her than ever.  Lilly became absolutely jealous.  She had never cared particularly for Clarence’s affection, but she did not like to have any one preferred above herself.

“It’s pretty hard, I think,” she told Clover.  “Clare does every thing you tell him, and he treats me awfully.  It isn’t a bit fair!  I’m his sister, and you’re only a second cousin.”

All this time the girls had seen almost nothing of Louisa Agnew.  She called once, but Lilly received the call with them, and so cool and stiff that Louisa grew stiff also, and made but a short stay; and when the girls returned the visit she was out.  A few days before the close of vacation, however, a note came from her.

“Dear Katy,—­I am so sorry not to have seen more of you and
Clover.  Won’t you come and spend Wednesday with us?  Mamma
sends her love, and hopes you will come early, so as to have
a long day, for she wants to know you.  I long to show you
the baby and every thing.  Do come.  Papa will see you home
in the evening.  Remember me to Lilly.  She has so many
friends to see during vacation that I am sure she will
forgive me for stealing you for one day. 
“Yours affectionately,
“Louisa.”