ey first begin to spell. If
anybody else had told me such a story about an old country deacon, I
wouldn't have believed it; but he said so himself, to me, at breakfast
this morning."

Mr. Bradshaw felt as if either he or Mr. Lindsay must certainly be in
the first stage of mild insanity, and he did not think that he himself
could be out of his wits. He must try one more question. He had become
so mystified that he forgot himself, and began putting his interrogation
in legal form.

"Will you state, if you please--I beg your pardon--may I ask who is your
own favorite author?"

"I think just now I like to read Scott better than almost anybody."

"Do you mean the Rev. Thomas Scott, author of the Commentary?"

Clement stared at Mr. Bradshaw, and wondered whether he was trying to
make a fool of him. The young lawyer hardly looked as if he could be a
fool himself.

"I mean Sir Walter Scott," he said, dryly.

"Oh!" said Mr. Bradshaw. He saw that there had been a slight
misunderstanding between the young man and his worthy host, but it was
none of his business, and there were other subjects of interest to talk
about.

"You know one of our charming young ladies very well, I believe, Mr.
Lindsay. I think you are an old acquaintance of Miss Posey, whom we all
consider so pretty."

Poor Clement! The question pierced to the very marrow of his soul, but
it was put with the utmost suavity and courtesy, and honeyed with a
compliment to the young lady, too, so that there was no avoiding a
direct and pleasant answer to it.

"Yes," he said, "I have known the young lady you speak of for a long
time, and very well,--in fact, as you must have heard, we are something
more than friends. My visit here is principally on her account."

"You must give the rest of us a chance to see something of you during
your visit, Mr. Lindsay. I hope you are invited to Miss Eveleth's this
evening?"

"Yes, I got a note this morning. Tell me, Mr. Bradshaw, who is there
that I shall meet this evening if I go? I have no doubt there are girls
here I should like to see, and perhaps some young fellows that I should
like to talk with. You know all that's prettiest and pleasantest, of
course."'

"O, we're a little place, Mr. Lindsay. A few nice people, the rest
_comme ca_, you know. High-bush blackberries and low-bush
blackberries,--you understand,--just so everywhere,--high-bush here and
there, low-bush plenty. You must see the two parsons' daughters,--