"
"But is she a lady?"
"Every one that can dress becomingly claims that title with us; I presume
Esmerelda with the rest."
"But her mother?" I left the sentence unfinished.
"Lives on Mill Road and takes in washing."
"Don't you think it is wiser to keep servants in their proper place as
they do in Europe? One is not in danger there of mistaking maid for
mistress."
"Ah, that is a problem for wiser heads than ours to solve. Each system
has its grievances; if human nature had not suffered so severely from
the original transgression I should favor the American plan."
"But it has fallen, and requires generations of training to fit one for
such assumption of dignity."
"Even so, we come on debatable ground. Where do you find longer lines of
trained generations than in those Royal families that cost you so much
to support, and what do many of them amount to? How many of them would it
take to make one Lincoln? He was a peasant's son, as they reckon rank."
"But there are not many Lincolns; and I fear we can find a good many
Esmereldas."
"She is a very good chambermaid. What fault do you find with her?"
I smiled, though utterly discomfited.
"A fault one cannot easily forgive. She impresses me with her own
superiority, especially in the matter of dress."
"Yes, our shop and servant girls are usually good artists in the matter
of personal attire; but I usually find the really clever ones are the
poorest dressers."
"Is not that the case with others than they? Persons who have more
enduring objects of contemplation than personal attire do not bestow
enough time on how they shall robe themselves to excel in dressing
artistically.
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