the facts. His father did not brighten all over and demand,
"Miss Pasmer, of course?" he contrived to hide whatever start the news
had given him, and was some time in asking, with his soft lisp, "Isn't
that rather sudden, Dan?"

"Well, not for me," said Dan, laughing uneasily. "It's--you know her,
father--Miss Pasmer."

"Oh yes," said his father, certainly not with displeasure, and yet not
with enthusiasm.

"I've had ever since Class Day to think it over, and it--came to a
climax yesterday."

"And then you stopped thinking," said his father--to gain time, it
appeared to Dan.

"Yes, sir," said Dan. "I haven't thought since."

"Well," said his father, with an amusement which was not unfriendly.
He added, after a moment, "But I thought that had been broken off," and
Dan's instinct penetrated to the lurking fact that his father must have
talked the rupture over with his mother, and not wholly regretted it.

"There was a kind of--hitch at one time," he admitted; "but it's all
right now."

"Well, well," said his father, "this is great news--great news," and he
seemed to be shaping himself to the new posture of affairs, while giving
it a conditional recognition. "She's a beautiful creature."

"Isn't she?" cried Dan, with a little break in his voice, for he had
found his father's manner rather trying. "And she's good too. I assure
you that she is--she is simply perfect every way."

"Well," said the elder Mavering, rising and pulling down the rolling top
of his desk, "I'm glad to hear it, for your sake, Dan. Have you been up
at the house yet?"

"No; I'm just off the train."

"How is her mother--how is Mrs. Pasmer? All well?"

"Yes, sir," said Dan; "they're all very well. You don't know Mr. Pasmer,
I believe, sir, do you?"

"Not since college. What sort of person is he?"

"He's very refined and quiet. Very handsome. Very courteous. Very nice
indeed."

"Ah! that's good," said Elbridge Mavering, with the effect of not having
been very attentive to his son's answer.

They walked up the long slope of the hillside on which the house stood,
overlooking the valley where the Works were, and fronting the plateau
across the river where the village of operatives' houses was scattered.
The paling light of what had been a very red sunset flushed them, and
brought out the picturesqueness which the architect, who designed
them for a particular effect in the view from the owner's mansion, had
intended.

A good carriage