s never had a near and
familiar view of an authentic specimen. I therefore see him now
regarding me with a reverent interest, not unmixed with awe.

"I mean nothing so silly!" I answer, with lofty petulance. "I am a great
deal too old for any such nonsense!"

"There I go with you," says Algy, not without grandeur. "I believe that
it is the greatest humbug out, and that it rarely occurs between the
ages of sixteen and sixty."

"Father's and mother's was a love-match," says Bobby, gravely. "Did not
Aunt Williams tell us that they used always to sit hand-in-hand before
they were married?"

A shout of laughter at our parents' expense greets this piece of
information.

"_All_ married people grow to hate one another after a bit," say I,
comprehensively; "it is only a question of time."

"But if you do not love him _now_, and if you are sure that you will
hate him by-and-by," says Barbara, looking rather puzzled, "what makes
you think of taking him?"

"It would be such a fine thing for all the family: I could give all the
boys such a shove," say I, with homely shrewdness.

"They killed seven hundred head of game on his big day last year; I
heard him tell father so," says Bobby, with his mouth watering.

"He has a moor in Scotland," throws in the Brat.

"He must ride a stone heavier than I do," says Algy, thoughtfully, "his
horses would certainly carry me: I wonder would he give me a mount now
and then?"

"I would have you _all_ staying with me _always_," I cry, warming with
my theme, and beginning to dance, "all except father: he should come
once a year for a week, if he was good, and _not at all_, if he was
not."

"What will you call him, Nancy?" asks the Brat, inquisitively. "What
shall _we_ call him?"

"He will be Tou Tou's _brother_," cries Bobby, with a yell of delight.

"Hush!" says Barbara, apprehensively, "he will hear you."

"No he will not," I answer, composedly. "A person would have to bawl
even louder than Bobby does, to make him hear: he has gone away for a
week; he said he did not wish me to decide in a hurry: he has given me
till this day week; I wish it were this day ten years--"

"This day week, then," says Algy, walking about with his hands in his
pockets, and smiling to himself, "we may hope to see him return in
triumph in a blue frock-coat, with the ring and the parson: at that age
one has no time to lose."

"Haste to the wedding!" cries the Brat at the top of his voice, seizing
me by