I'm not certain." "Oh!" gasped Mrs.De Peyster.

"Oh! And--and this--this--Mary person--" "She plays the piano, and is going to be a professional." For a moment Mrs.De Peyster's horror was inarticulate.

Then it began to regain its power of speech.
"What--you throw away--Ethel Quintard--for a little pianist! You compare a girl like--like that--to Ethel Quintard!" "Compare them?
Not for one little minute, mother, dear! For Mary has brains and--" "Stop!" exploded Mrs.De Peyster, in majestic rage.

"Young man, have you considered the social disgrace you are plunging us all into?
But--but surely you cannot be in earnest!" He looked imperturbably up into her face.

"Not in earnest, mother?
I'm as earnest as a preacher on Sunday." "Then--then--" She choked with her words.