ked brandy, but guided by an innate spirit of modesty
which prevented him always from going more than halfway when he was
in company.

Then the evening became very pleasant. "You are quite sure that he is
really engaged to her ladyship?" asked Clara.

"I wish I were as certainly engaged to you," replied the polite
Crocker.

"What nonsense you do talk, Mr. Crocker;--and before other people
too. But you think he is?"

"I am sure of it. Both Hampstead and she have told me so much
themselves out of their own mouths."

"My!" exclaimed Mrs. Duffer.

"And here's her brother engaged to Marion Fay," said Clara. Crocker
declared that as to this he was by no means so well assured. Lord
Hampstead in spite of their intimacy had told him nothing about it.
"But it is so, Mr. Crocker, as sure as ever you are sitting there. He
has been coming here after her over and over again, and was closeted
with her only last Friday for hours. It was a holiday, but that sly
old Quaker went out of the way, so as to leave them together. That
Mrs. Roden, though she's as stiff as buckram, knows all about it. To
the best of my belief she got it all up. Marion Fay is with her every
day. It's my belief there's something we don't understand yet. She's
got a hold of them young people, and means to do just what she likes
with 'em." Crocker, however, could not agree to this. He had heard of
Lord Hampstead's peculiar politics, and was assured that the young
lord was only carrying out his peculiar principles in selecting
Marion Fay for himself and devoting his sister to George Roden.

"Not that I like that kind of thing, if you ask me," said Crocker.
"I'm very fond of Hampstead, and I've always found Lady Frances to be
a pleasant and affable lady. I've no cause to speak other than civil
of both of them. But when a man has been born a lord, and a lady a
lady--. A lady of that kind, Miss Demijohn."

"Oh, exactly;--titled you mean, Mr. Crocker?"

"Quite high among the nobs, you know. Hampstead will be a Marquis
some of these days, which is next to a Duke."

"And do you know him,--yourself?" asked Tribbledale with a voice of
awe.

"Oh, yes," said Crocker.

"To speak to him when you see him?"

"I had a long correspondence with him about a week ago about a matter
which interested both of us very much."

"And how does he address you?" asked Clara,--also with something of
awe.

"'Dear Crocker;'--just that. I always say 'My dear Lord Hampstead,'
in