ay of literature, Miss
Edgeworth's novels and Macaulay's _History of England_."

"And a very good idea," said Mrs. Bryden.

"Certainly, only one can not call that adventures."

"But even such girls come upon adventures sometimes," said Mrs. Cromer.

"Yes, when they have beauty. Their beauty seems often to have an
extraordinary power over the most poetical and imaginative men, too,
strange as it may appear. But Anne Douglas has none of it."

"How you all misunderstand her!" said a voice from the little
dining-room opening into the parlor, its doorway screened by a curtain.

"Ah, doctor, are you there?" said Mrs. Bryden. "We should not have said
a word if we had known it."

"Yes, madam, I am here--with the colonel; but it is only this moment
that I have lifted my head to listen to your conversation, and I remain
filled with astonishment, as usual, at the obtuseness manifested by your
sex regarding each other."

"Hear! hear!" said the colonel.

"Anne Douglas," continued the chaplain, clearing his throat, and
beginning in a high chanting voice, which they all knew well, having
heard it declaiming on various subjects during long snow-bound winter
evenings, "is a most unusual girl."

"Oh, come in here, doctor, and take a seat; it will be hard work to say
it all through that doorway," called Mrs. Bryden.

"No, madam, I will not sit down," said the chaplain, appearing under the
curtain, his brown wig awry, his finger impressively pointed. "I will
simply say this, namely, that as to Anne Douglas, you are all mistaken."

"And who is to be the judge between us?"

"The future, madam."

"Very well; we will leave it to the future, then," said Mrs. Bryden,
skillfully evading the expected oration.

"We may safely do that, madam--safely indeed; the only difficulty is
that we may not live to see it."

"Oh, a woman's future is always near at hand, doctor. Besides, we are
not so very old ourselves."

"True, madam--happily true for all the eyes that rest upon you.
Nevertheless, the other side, I opine, is likewise true, namely, that
Anne Douglas is very young."

"She is sixteen; and I myself am only twenty," said Mrs. Rankin.

"With due respect, ladies, I must mention that not one of you was ever
in her life so young as Anne Douglas at the present moment."

"What in the world do you mean, doctor?"

"What I say. I can see you all as children in my mind's eye," continued
the chaplain, unflinchingly; "pretty, bright,