"I wonder who he is; may belong to some of our
first families, and in that case it might be worth
while to exert ourselves, you know. Did you
learn his name, Dora? " whispered the elder lady.

Debby shook her head, and murmured, "Hush!"--but
Aunt Pen had heard of matches being made in cars as
well as in heaven; and as an experienced general,
it became her to reconnoitre, when one of the enemy
approached her camp. Slightly altering her position,
she darted an all-comprehensive glance at the invader,
who seemed entirely absorbed, for not an eyelash stirred
during the scrutiny. It lasted but an instant, yet in
that instant he was weighed and found wanting; for
that experienced eye detected that his cravat was
two inches wider than fashion ordained, that his
coat was not of the latest style, that his gloves
were mended, and his handkerchief neither cambric
nor silk. That was enough, and sentence was
passed forthwith,--"Some respectable clerk,
good-looking, but poor, and not at all the thing
for Dora"; and Aunt Pen turned to adjust a
voluminous green veil over her niece's bonnet,
"To shield it from the dust, dear," which process
also shielded the face within from the eye of man.

A curious smile, half mirthful, half melancholy,
passed over their neighbor's lips; but his peace of
mind seemed undisturbed, and he remained buried