rning, my dear Mrs. Dinks," said Mrs. Newt, in a troubled voice,
as she entered the room. "Oh my! isn't it--isn't it--singular?"

For Mrs. Newt was bewildered. Between her husband and Mrs. Dagon she had
been so depressed and comforted that she did not know what to think. She
was sure it was Fanny who had married Alfred, and she supposed, with all
the world, that he had, or was to have, a pretty fortune. Yet she felt,
with her husband, that the private marriage was suspicious. It seemed, at
least, to prove the indisposition of Mrs. Dinks to the match. But, as
they were married, she did not wish to alienate the mother of the rich
bridegroom.

"Singular, indeed, Mrs. Newt!" rejoined Mrs. Dinks; "I call it
extraordinary!"

"I call it outrageous," interpolated Mrs. Dagon. "Poor girl! to be run
away with and married! What a blow for our family!"

Mrs. Dinks resumed her glasses, and looked unutterably at Mrs. Dagon. But
Mrs. Dinks, on her side, knowing the limitations of Alfred's income, and
believing in the Newt resources, did not wish to divert from him any
kindness of the Newts. So she outgeneraled Mrs. Dagon again.

"Yes, indeed, it is an outrage upon all our feelings. We must, of course,
be mutually shocked at the indiscretion of these members of both our
families."

"Yes, oh yes!" answered Mrs. Newt. "I do declare! what do people do so
for?"

Neither cared to take the next step, and make the obvious and necessary
inquiries as to the future, for neither wished to betray the thought that
was uppermost. At length Mrs. Dinks ventured to say,

"One thing, at least, is fortunate."

"Indeed!" ejaculated Mrs. Dagon behind the glasses, as if she scoffed at
the bare suggestion of any thing but utter misfortune being associated
with such an affair.

"I say one thing is fortunate," continued Mrs. Dinks, in a more decided
tone, and without the slightest attention to Mrs. Dagon's remark.

"Dear me! I declare I don't see just what you mean, Mrs. Dinks," said
Mrs. Newt.

"I mean that they are neither of them children," answered the other.

"They may not be children," commenced Mrs. Dagon, in the most implacable
tone, "but they are both fools. I shouldn't wonder, Nancy, if they'd both
outwitted each other, after all; for whenever two people, without the
slightest apparent reason, run away to be married, it is because one of
them is poor."

This was a truth of which the two mothers were both vaguely conscious,
and which