ure Mr Prothero ith very nithe, and tho gentlemanlike
and good and handthome. And, you know, clergymen are ath good ath any
one in London.'

'Prothero is better than most, I think,' says Sir Hugh, 'because there
is no humbug about him. And I'm sure, since Freda wouldn't have me, I'm
glad she had him, though I never guessed she liked him; I used to think
she liked you best, Vaughan.'

The colonel sighs.

'Oh! I never flattered myself so far, I wish--'

'Certainly, I could not have believed the Protheros were such superior
people,' says Lady Mary. 'As to Mr Owen and his wife, they might be
introduced into any society.'

'Thweetly pretty, Gladyth ith, I never thought tho much of her before,'
lisps Mrs Vaughan. 'Tho interethting the looked in that dreth, the one
the wath married in, my maid thaith.'

'I was obliged to call at the farm myself, to induce old Prothero and
his wife to come,' says Mr Gwynne, 'Freda wished it so much; I cannot
say I did: you see it was rather awkward. But he did not change his old
manner towards me--or--in fact--you know, Sir Hugh he might have been--'

'Bumptious,' breaks in Sir Hugh; 'exactly, not a bit of it. They're
better behaved. Besides, there was Mrs Jonathan to support the honour of
the family, and her husband the learning.'

'Yes,' says Lady Mary; '' it is a comfort that they are really
gentlefolks. And Mr and Mrs Jones too--in short, with the exception of
the parents, after all, there is no great objection. Many girls make
worse matches. Only they live so near.'

Here little Harold comes bouncing into the room, followed by the other
children.

'Mamma! papa! do you know I am going to marry Minette, I told her so;
her name is Victoria, after the Queen, she said. I shall go to see her
to-morrow; she is bigger than Minnie, and looked prettier in her veil.
Didn't Dot look funny in a veil? Dot nearly cried, but Aunt Freda gave
her some cake. Why did Mr Prothero come, papa? isn't he a farmer?'

'And isn't your papa a farmer? and am not I a farmer, Master Harold?'
exclaims Sir Hugh, catching the boy up in his arms.

'I am so sorry Aunt Freda is going away,' says quiet little Minnie to
her mother.

'And tho am I, my dear.'

'And tho am I, mamma,' lisps Dot, exactly as lisps her mamma.

'I hope she will be happy,' says Mr Gwynne, aside to the colonel; 'do
you think she will?'

'Yes, I am sure she will; she is evidently sincerely attached to Rowland
Prothero, and he to her. H