of annoyances with
which young ladies delight to harass young gentlemen? Have you no
backing for your mother and me? One word from you ought to be worth a
thousand from us old folks."

"Mr. Pownal owes me some gratitude, too, father," said Anne, "for the
patience and accomplishments I have taught him. But he surely knows
how much pleasure his presence confers on all in this house. We shall
miss him very much, shall we not, Beau?"--addressing a little spaniel
that, upon being spoken to, sat up on his hind legs to beg for
breakfast.

"I have several times endeavored to say this before," said Pownal,
somewhat piqued, and feeling a strong desire to kick the innocent
cur out of the room, "but have never been able to muster sufficient
courage. And now, if my thanks appear cold, as I am afraid they do to
Miss Bernard, I assure her it is not the fault of my heart, but of my
tongue."

"Hearts and tongues!" exclaimed the Judge. "The former belong to the
ladies' department; the latter to mine. Yet, I fancy I know something
about hearts, too; and yours, Thomas, I am sure, is adequate security
for your words."

"You are very good, sir," said Pownal, "and I can only wish that all
participated in your undeserved partiality."

Anne was vexed with herself for having spoken in so trifling a manner.
The frigid politeness of her brother's speech, too, had not escaped
her notice. It seemed to her now, that she had been wantonly rude. She
hastened, therefore, to repair the fault.

"Mr. Pownal mistakes," she said, "if he thinks me unmindful of the
pleasant hours his unfortunate accident procured us. And I am sure I
should be a monster of ingratitude," she added smiling, and relapsing,
in spite of herself, into the very trifling she had condemned, "if I
did not remember, with lively emotions, his skill at holding silk and
yarn."

"Well, whenever you want a reel, send for me," said Pownal, "and I
shall only be too happy to come."

"Take care, my good fellow," said the Judge, "she does not wind you
up, too."

"I should be too happy--" began Pownal.

"For shame, father," cried Anne, laughing, and rising from the table.
"The young men have quite spoiled you, of late. Good-bye; you have
finished your last cup of coffee, and have no longer need of me." So
saying, she hastened out of the room.

It was with mutual regret that the parting took place, and not without
many promises required of the young man that he would frequently visit