rector, with a frankness which was entirely that
of a brother, and had no bearing upon his office, "you are always ready
enough with that duty of fault-finding." Mr. Dale looked admiringly at
his brother-in-law. "Why don't you think of the duty of praise, once in
a while? Praise is a Christian grace too much neglected. Don't you think
so, Henry?"

But Mrs. Dale answered instead: "I am ready enough to praise when there
is occasion for it, but you can't expect me to praise Lois for her
behavior to young Forsythe. Arabella says the poor youth is completely
prostrated by the blow."

"Bah!" murmured Mr. Dale under his breath; but Dr. Howe said
impatiently,--

"What do you mean? What blow?"

"Why, Lois has refused him!" cried Mrs. Dale. "What else?"

"I didn't know she had refused him," the rector answered slowly. "Well,
the child is the best judge, after all."

"I am glad of it," said Mr. Dale,--"I am glad of it. He was no husband
for little Lois,--no, my dear, pray let me speak,--no husband for Lois.
I have had some conversation with him, and I played euchre with him once.
He played too well for a gentleman, Archibald."

"He beat you, did he?" said the rector.

"That had nothing to do with it!" cried Mr. Dale. "I should have said the
same thing had I been his partner"--

"Fudge!" Mrs. Dale interrupted, "as though it made the slightest
difference how a man played a silly game! Don't be foolish, Henry. Lois
has made a great mistake, but I suppose there is nothing to be done,
unless young Forsythe should try again. I hope he will, and I hope she
will have more sense."

The rector was silent. He could not deny that he was disappointed, and as
he went towards the post-office, he almost wished he had offered a word
of advice to Lois. "Still, a girl needs her mother for that sort of
thing, and, after all, perhaps it is best. For really, I should be very
dull at the rectory without her." Thus he comforted himself for what was
only a disappointment to his vanity, and was quite cheerful when he
opened Helen's letter.

The post-office was in that part of the drug-store where the herbs were
kept, and the letters always had a faint smell of pennyroyal or wormwood
about them. The rector read his letter, leaning against the counter,
and crumpling some bay leaves between his fingers; and though he was
interrupted half a dozen times by people coming for their mail, and
stopping to gossip about the weather or the church, he ga