ajor, in a confidential voice, "that if
you want a rival with Virginia, you'll be apt to find a stout one in Jack
Morson. He was back a week ago, and he's a fine fellow--a first-rate
fellow. I declare, he came over here one evening and I couldn't begin a
single quotation from Horace that he didn't know the end of it. On my word,
he's not only a fine fellow, but a cultured gentleman. You may remember,
sir, that I have always maintained that the two most refining influences
upon the manners were to be found in the society of ladies and a knowledge
of the Latin language."

Dan gave the yarn an impatient jerk. "Tell me, grandma," he besought her.

As was her custom, the old lady came quickly to the point and appeared to
transfix the question with the end of her knitting-needle. "I really think
that it is Betty, my child," she answered calmly.

"What does he mean by falling in love with Betty?" demanded Dan, while he
rose to his feet, and the ball of yarn fell upon the floor.

"Don't ask me what he means, sir," protested the Major. "If a man in love
has any meaning in him, it takes a man in love to find it out. Maybe you'll
be better at it than I am; but I give it up--I give it up."

With a gloomy face Dan sat down again, and resting his arms on his knees,
stared at the vase of golden-rod between the tall brass andirons. Cupid
came in to light the lamps, and stopped to inquire if Mrs. Lightfoot would
like a blaze to be started in the fireplace. "It's a little chilly, my
dear," remarked the Major, slapping his arm. "There's been a sharp change
in the weather;" and Cupid removed the vase of golden-rod and laid an
armful of sticks crosswise on the andirons.

"Draw up to the hearth, my boy," said the Major, when the fire burned.
"Even if you aren't cold, it looks cheerful, you know--draw up, draw up,"
and he at once began to question his grandson about the London streets,
evoking as he talked dim memories of his own early days in England. He
asked after St. Paul's and Westminster Abbey half as if they were personal
friends of whose death he feared to hear; and upon being answered that they
still stood unchanged, he pressed eagerly for the gossip of the Strand and
Fleet Street. Was Dr. Johnson's coffee-house still standing? and did Dan
remember to look up the haunts of Mr. Addison in his youth? "I've gotten a
good deal out of Champe," he confessed, "but I like to hear it again--I
like to hear it. Why, it takes me back forty y