beyond description; it seems that it's all
right to talk anyway now if you call it classic. And she has fans with
pictures and rhymes on, honestly--" words apparently failed her.

Howat laughed. "Little Innocence," he said. He fell silent, thinking of
their mother. The court, he knew, had been her right, too, by birth; and
he wondered if, with the reminder of Mrs. Winscombe and her reflections
of St. James, she regretted her marriage and removal to the Province.
She was essentially lady, while Gilbert Penny had been the son of a
small country squire. He had seen a profile of his father as a young
man, at the time he had first met Isabel Kingsfrere Howat. It was a
handsome profile, perhaps a shade heavy, but admirably balanced and
stamped with decisive power. He had characteristically invested almost
his last shilling in a tract of eight hundred acres in Pennsylvania and
the passage of himself and his bride to the Province.

It was natural for men so to adventure, but Howat thought of Isabel
Penny with, perhaps, the only marked admiration he felt for any being.
There had been a period, short but strenuous, of material difficulties,
in which the girl--she had been hardly a woman in years--entirely
unprepared for such a different activity, had been finely competent and
courageous. This had not endured long because Gilbert Penny had been
successful almost from the first day of his landing in a new world.
Chance letters had enlisted the confidence of David Forsythe, a Quaker
merchant of property and increasing importance; the latter became a part
owner of an iron furnace situated not far from the Penny holding; he
assisted Gilbert in the erection of a forge; and in less than twenty
years Gilbert Penny had grown to be a half proprietor in the Furnace,
with--

"Howat," Caroline broke in on his thoughts sharply, "I came in, as I
said, to talk about something very important to me, and I intend to do
it." Even after that decided announcement she hesitated, a deeper
colour stained her dear cheeks. "You mustn't laugh at me," she warned
him; "or think I'm horrid. I can talk to you like this because you seem
a--a little outside of things, as if you were looking on at a rather
poorly done play; and you are entirely honest yourself."

He nodded condescendingly, his interest at last retrieved from the
contemplation of his mother as a young woman.

"It's about David," Caroline stated almost defiantly. "Howat, I think
I'm very fond o