aper he placed on
the table.

"'Norman Walter, son of Richard and Margaret May, High Street, Doctor of
Medicine, December 21st, 18--. Thomas Ramsden.'"

"What is that for, Norman?" and, as he did not attend, she called Mary
to share her speculations, and spell out the words.

"Ha!" cried Dr. May, "this is capital! The old doctor seems not to know
how to say enough for you. Have you read it?"

"No, he only told me he had said something in my favour, and wished me
all success."

"Success!" cried Mary. "Oh, Norman, you are not going to sea too?"

"No, no!" interposed Blanche knowingly--"he is going to be married.
I heard nurse wish her brother success when he was going to marry the
washerwoman with a red face."

"No," said Mary, "people never are married till they are twenty."

"But I tell you," persisted Blanche, "people always write like this, in
a great book in church, when they are married. I know, for we always go
into church with Lucy and nurse when there is a wedding."

"Well, Norman, I wish you success with the bride you are to court," said
Dr. May, much diverted with the young ladies' conjectures.

"But is it really?" said Mary, making her eyes as round as full moons.

"Is it really?" repeated Blanche. "Oh, dear! is Norman going to be
married? I wish it was to be Meta Rivers, for then I could always ride
her dear little white pony."

"Tell them," whispered Norman, a good deal out of countenance, as he
leaned over Ethel, and quitted the room.

Ethel cried, "Now then!" and looked at her father, while Blanche and
Mary reiterated inquiries--marriage, and going to sea, being the only
events that, in their imagination, the world could furnish. Going to
try for a Balliol scholarship! It was a sad falling off, even if they
understood what it meant. The doctor's explanations to Margaret had a
tone of apology for having kept her in ignorance, and Flora said few
words, but felt herself injured; she had nearly gone to Mrs. Hoxton that
afternoon, and how strange it would have been if anything had been said
to her of her own brother's projects, when she was in ignorance.

Ethel slipped away to her brother, who was in his own room, surrounded
with books, flushed and anxious, and trying to glance over each subject
on which he felt himself weak.

"I shall fail! I know I shall!" was his exclamation. "I wish I had never
thought of it!"

"What? did Dr. Hoxton think you not likely to succeed?" cried Ethel, in
const