"I cannot regret your coming to Kings Port," said my hostess, after we had talked for a little while, and I had complimented the balmy March weather and the wealth of blooming flowers; "but I fear that Fanning is not a name that you will find here. It belongs to North Carolina."

I smiled and explained that North Carolina Fannings were useless to me. "And, if I may be so bold, how well you are acquainted with my errand!"

I cannot say that my hostess smiled, that would be too definite; but I can say that she did not permit herself to smile, and that she let me see this repression. "Yes," she said, "we are acquainted with your errand, though not with its motive."

I sat silent, thinking of the Exchange.

My hostess now gave me her own account of why all things were known to all people in this town. "The distances in your Northern cities are greater, and their population is much greater. There are but few of us in Kings Port." In these last words she plainly told me that those "few" desired no others. She next added: "My nephew, John Mayrant, has spoken of you at some length."

I bowed. "I had the pleasure to see and hear him order a wedding cake."

"Yes. From Eliza La Heu (pronounced Layhew), my niece; he is my nephew, she is my niece on the other side. My niece is a beginner at the Exchange. We hope that she will fulfil her duties there in a worthy manner. She comes from a family which is schooled to meet responsibilities."

I bowed again; again it seemed fitting. "I had not, until now, known the charming girl's name," I murmured.

My hostess now bowed slightly. "I am glad that you find her charming."

"Indeed, yes!" I exclaimed.

"We, also, are pleased with her. She is of good family—for the up-country."

Once again our alphabet fails me. The peculiar shade of kindness, of recognition, of patronage, which my agreeable hostess (and all Kings Port ladies, I soon noticed) imparted to the word "up-country" cannot be conveyed except by the human voice—and only a Kings Port voice at that. It is a much lighter damnation than what they make of the phrase "from Georgia," which I was soon to hear uttered by the lips of the lady. "And so you know about his wedding cake?"

"My dear madam, I feel that I shall know about everything."

Her gray eyes looked at me quietly for a moment. "That is possible. But although we may talk of ourselves to you, we scarcely expect you to talk of ourselves to us."

Well, my pertness had brought me this quite properly! And I received it properly. "I should never dream—" I hastened to say; "even without your warning. I find I'm expected to have seen the young lady of his choice," I now threw out. My accidental words proved as miraculous as the staff which once smote the rock. It was a stream, indeed, which now broke forth from her stony discretion. She began easily. "It is evident that you have not seen Miss Rieppe by the manner in which you allude to her—although of course, in comparison with my age, she is a young girl." I think that this caused me to open my mouth.