rs with some severity.

"More shame for you," says Monkton promptly.

"Well, never mind," says she, too happy and too engrossed with her news
to enjoy even a skirmish with her husband. "Isn't it all charming,
Freddy?"

"It has certainly turned out very well, all things considered."

"I think it is the happiest thing. And when two people who love each
other are quite young----"

"Really, my dear, you are too flattering," says Monkton. "Considering
the gray hairs that are beginning to make themselves so unpleasantly at
home in my head, I, at all events, can hardly lay claim to extreme
youth."

"Good gracious! I'm not talking of us; I'm talking of them," cries she,
giving him a shake. "Wake up, Freddy. Bring your mind to bear upon this
big news of mine, and you will see how enchanting it is. Don't you think
Felix has behaved beautifully--so faithful, so constant, and against
such terrible odds? You know Joyce is a little difficult sometimes. Now
hasn't he been perfect all through?"

"He is a genuine hero of romance," says Mr. Monkton with conviction.
"None of your cheap articles--a regular bonafide thirteenth century
knight. The country ought to contribute its stray half-pennies and buy
him a pedestal and put him on the top of it, whether he likes it or not.
Once there Simon Stylites would be forgotten in half an hour. Was there
ever before heard of such an heroic case! Did ever yet living man have
the prowess to propose to the girl he loved! It is an entirely new
departure, and should be noticed. It is quite unique!"

"Don't be horrid," says his wife. "You know exactly what I mean--that it
is a delightful ending to what promised to be a miserable muddle. And he
is so charming; isn't he, now, Freddy?"

"Is he?" asks Mr. Monkton, regarding her with a thoughtful eye.

"You can see for yourself. He is so satisfactory. I always said he was
the very husband for Joyce. He is so kind, so earnest, so sweet in every
way."

"Nearly as sweet as I am, eh?" There is stern inquiry now in his regard.

"Pouf! I know what you are, of course. Who would, if I didn't? But
really, Freddy, don't you think he will make her an ideal husband? So
open. So frank. So free from everything--everything--oh, well,
everything--you know!"

"I don't," says Monkton, uncompromisingly.

"Well--everything hateful, I mean. Oh! she is a lucky girl!"

"Nearly as lucky as her sister," says Monkton, growing momentarily more
stern in his determinat