prevent his being in classes with him, all the same.
And I am sure, if I had known the University was so little select, I should
have insisted upon sending him to Oxford, where his great-grandfather went
before him."

"Good gracious, Molly! You don't wish the lad was across the ocean, do
you?"

"It matters very little where he is so long as he is a gentleman," returned
the old lady, so sharply that Mitty began to unwind the worsted rapidly.

"Nonsense, Molly," protested the Major, irritably, for he could not stand
opposition upon his own hearth-rug. "The boy couldn't be hurt by sitting in
the same class with the devil himself--nor could Champe, for that matter.
They are too good Lightfoots."

"I am not uneasy about Champe," rejoined his wife. "Champe has never been
humoured as Dan has been, I'm glad to say."

The Major started up as red as a beet.

"Do you mean that I humour him, madam?" he demanded in a terrible voice.

"Do pray, Mr. Lightfoot, you will frighten Mitty to death," said his wife,
reprovingly, "and it is really very dangerous for you to excite yourself
so--you remember the doctor cautioned you against it." And, by the time the
Major was thoroughly depressed, she skilfully brought out her point. "Of
course you spoil the child to death. You know it as well as I do."

The Major, with the fear of apoplexy in his mind, had no answer on his
tongue, though a few minutes later he showed his displeasure by ordering
his horse and riding to Uplands to talk things over with the Governor.

"I am afraid Molly is breaking," he thought gloomily, as he rode along.
"She isn't what she was when I married her fifty years ago."

But at Uplands his ill humour was dispelled. The Governor read the letter
and declared that Dan was a fine lad, "and I'm glad you haven't spoiled
him, Major," he said heartily. "Yes, they're both fine lads and do you
honour."

"So they do! so they do!" exclaimed the Major, delightedly. "That's just
what I said to Molly, sir. And Dan sends his love to the little girls," he
added, smiling upon Betty and Virginia, who stood by.

"Thank you, sir," responded Virginia, prettily, looking at the old man with
her dovelike eyes; but Betty tossed her head--she had an imperative little
toss which she used when she was angry. "I am only three years younger than
he is," she said, "and I'm not a little girl any longer--Mammy has had to
let down all my dresses. I am fourteen years old, sir."

"And quite