cold shoulder to the family of Mr.
C-----, who had become richer than either of them as a pawnbroker,
and whose wife wore diamonds, but dropped her h's. England would be a
community so aristocratic that there would be no living in it, if one
could exterminate what is now called "aristocracy." The Braefields were
the only persons who really drew together the antagonistic atoms of the
Moleswich society, partly because they were acknowledged to be the first
persons there, in right not only of old settlement (the Braefields had
held Braefieldville for four generations), but of the wealth derived
from those departments of commercial enterprise which are recognized as
the highest, and of an establishment considered to be the most elegant
in the neighbourhood; principally because Elsie, while exceedingly
genial and cheerful in temper, had a certain power of will (as her
runaway folly had manifested), and when she got people together
compelled them to be civil to each other. She had commenced this
gracious career by inaugurating children's parties, and when the
children became friends the parents necessarily grew closer together.
Still her task had only recently begun, and its effects were not in
full operation. Thus, though it became known at Moleswich that a young
gentleman, the heir to a baronetcy and a high estate, was sojourning at
Cromwell Lodge, no overtures were made to him on the part of the A's,
B's, and C's. The vicar, who called on Kenelm the day after the dinner
at Braefieldville, explained to him the social conditions of the place.
"You understand," said he, "that it will be from no want of courtesy on
the part of my neighbours if they do not offer you any relief from
the pleasures of solitude. It will be simply because they are shy, not
because they are uncivil. And, it is this consideration that makes
me, at the risk of seeming too forward, entreat you to look into the
vicarage any morning or evening on which you feel tired of your own
company; suppose you drink tea with us this evening,--you will find a
young lady whose heart you have already won."

"Whose heart I have won!" faltered Kenelm, and the warm blood rushed to
his cheek.

"But," continued the vicar, smiling, "she has no matrimonial designs on
you at present. She is only twelve years old,--my little girl Clemmy."

"Clemmy!--she is your daughter? I did not know that. I very gratefully
accept your invitation."

"I must not keep you longer from your