s and little stratagems which as often as
not proved injudicious, and then somehow or other in the end, there lay
the young man bound and with an arrow through his heart at her daughter's
feet. It seemed to her to be all a fluke which she could have little or
no hope of repeating. She had indeed repeated it once, and might perhaps
with good luck repeat it yet once again--but five times over! It was
awful: why she would rather have three confinements than go through the
wear and tear of marrying a single daughter.

Nevertheless it had got to be done, and poor Mrs Allaby never looked at a
young man without an eye to his being a future son-in-law. Papas and
mammas sometimes ask young men whether their intentions are honourable
towards their daughters. I think young men might occasionally ask papas
and mammas whether their intentions are honourable before they accept
invitations to houses where there are still unmarried daughters.

"I can't afford a curate, my dear," said Mr Allaby to his wife when the
pair were discussing what was next to be done. "It will be better to get
some young man to come and help me for a time upon a Sunday. A guinea a
Sunday will do this, and we can chop and change till we get someone who
suits." So it was settled that Mr Allaby's health was not so strong as
it had been, and that he stood in need of help in the performance of his
Sunday duty.

Mrs Allaby had a great friend--a certain Mrs Cowey, wife of the
celebrated Professor Cowey. She was what was called a truly spiritually
minded woman, a trifle portly, with an incipient beard, and an extensive
connection among undergraduates, more especially among those who were
inclined to take part in the great evangelical movement which was then at
its height. She gave evening parties once a fortnight at which prayer
was part of the entertainment. She was not only spiritually minded, but,
as enthusiastic Mrs Allaby used to exclaim, she was a thorough woman of
the world at the same time and had such a fund of strong masculine good
sense. She too had daughters, but, as she used to say to Mrs Allaby, she
had been less fortunate than Mrs Allaby herself, for one by one they had
married and left her so that her old age would have been desolate indeed
if her Professor had not been spared to her.

Mrs Cowey, of course, knew the run of all the bachelor clergy in the
University, and was the very person to assist Mrs Allaby in finding an
eligible assis