dered
about the room, resting for a few instants upon Boniface, then sliding
toward his wife. Boniface himself seemed to be entirely unconscious of
any pause, or of any person, or of any thing, except some mysterious
erratic measure that he was beating with the bony fingers.

"It is a great while since we have met, Mrs. Newt," said Mrs. Bennet.

"Yes," returned Mrs. Nancy Newt, rapidly; "and now that we are to be so
very nearly related, it is really high time that we became intimate."

She looked, however, very far off from intimacy with the person she
addressed.

"I am glad our children are so happy, Mrs. Newt," said Gerald Bennet, in
a tremulous voice, with his eyes glimmering.

"Yes. I am glad Gabriel's prospects are so good," returned Mrs. Newt.
"I've no doubt he'll be a very rich man very soon."

When she had spoken, Boniface Newt, still drumming, turned his face and
looked quietly at his wife. Nobody spoke. Gabriel only winced at what
May's mother had said; and they all looked at Boniface. The old man gazed
fixedly at his wife as if he saw nobody else, and as if he were repeating
the words to which the bony fingers beat time. He said, in a cold, dry
voice, still beating time,

"Riches have wings! Riches have wings!"

"I'm sure, Boniface, I know that, if any body does," said his wife,
pettishly, and in a half-whimpering voice. "I think we've all learned
that."

"Riches have wings! Riches have wings!" he said, beating with the bony
fingers.

"Really, Boniface," said his wife, with an air of offended propriety,
"I see no occasion for such pointed allusions to our misfortunes. It
is certainly in very bad taste."

"Riches have wings! Riches have wings!" persisted her husband, still
gazing at her, and still beating time with the white bony fingers.

Mrs. Newt's whimpering broadened into crying. She sat weeping and wiping
her eyes, in the way which used to draw down a storm from her husband.
There was no storm now. Only the same placid stare--only the same
measured refrain.

"Riches have wings! Riches have wings!"

Lawrence Newt laid his hand gently on his brother's arm.

"Boniface, you did your best. We all did what we thought best and right."

The old man turned his eyes from his wife and went on silently drumming,
looking at the wall.

"Nancy," said Lawrence, "as Mr. and Mrs. Bennet are about to be a part of
the family, I see no reason for not saying to them that provision is made
for your husban