them before,' continued the young man.

Mrs. Smith at this point abstracted her mind from the former
subject. 'I don't see what you have to grieve about, Stephen,'
she said. 'People who accidentally get friends don't, as a first
stroke, tell the history of their families.'

'Ye've done no wrong, certainly,' said his father.

'No; but I should have spoken sooner. There's more in this visit
of mine than you think--a good deal more.'

'Not more than I think,' Mrs. Smith replied, looking
contemplatively at him. Stephen blushed; and his father looked
from one to the other in a state of utter incomprehension.

'She's a pretty piece enough,' Mrs. Smith continued, 'and very
lady-like and clever too. But though she's very well fit for you
as far as that is, why, mercy 'pon me, what ever do you want any
woman at all for yet?'

John made his naturally short mouth a long one, and wrinkled his
forehead, 'That's the way the wind d'blow, is it?' he said.

'Mother,' exclaimed Stephen, 'how absurdly you speak! Criticizing
whether she's fit for me or no, as if there were room for doubt on
the matter! Why, to marry her would be the great blessing of my
life--socially and practically, as well as in other respects. No
such good fortune as that, I'm afraid; she's too far above me.
Her family doesn't want such country lads as I in it.'