Myrtle had to own that they used a good deal of china at her own home,--old china, which had been a hundred years in the family, some of it.
"A hundred years old!" exclaimed Miss Clare Browne.

"What queer-looking stuff it must be! Why, everything in our house is just as new and bright! Papaa had all our pictures painted on purpose for us.

Have you got any handsome pictures in your house ?" "We have a good many portraits of members of the family," she said, "some of them older than the china." "How very very odd! What do the dear old things look like ?" "One was a great beauty in her time." "How jolly!" "Another was a young woman who was put to death for her religion,--burned to ashes at the stake in Queen Mary's time." "How very very wicked! It was n't nice a bit, was it?
Ain't you telling me stories?
Was that a hundred years ago ?--But you 've got some new pictures and things, have n't you?
Who furnished your parlors ?" "My great-grandfather, or his father, I believe." "Stuff and nonsense.

I don't believe it.

What color are your carriage-horses ?" "Our woman, Kitty Fagan, told somebody once we didn't keep any horse but a cow." "Not keep any horses! Do for pity's sake let me look at your feet." Myrtle put out as neat a little foot as a shoemaker ever fitted with a pair of number two.