were concerned. No one understood the art of teasing better than
he, and the young vicar had already had a taste of his kindly satire.
"Archie only meant to be good-natured and put every one at their
ease."

"Quite right. Mr. Drummond is always kind," returned Elizabeth,
benignly. She had forgotten Mattie's frequent scoldings, and the poor
little thing's tired face, or she would never have hazarded such a
compromise with truth. But somehow Elizabeth always forgot people's
weaknesses, especially when they were absent. It was so nice and easy
to praise people; and if she always believed what she said, that was
because her faith was so strong, and charity that is love was her
second nature.

"Oh, yes, of course," returned Mattie, innocently. She was far too
loyal a little soul to doubt Archie's kindness for a moment. Was he
not the pride and ornament of the family,--the domestic pope who
issued his bulls without possibility of contradiction? Whatever Archie
did must be right. Was not that their domestic creed?--a little
slavish, perhaps, but still so exquisitely feminine. Mattie was of
opinion that--well, to use a mild term--irritability was a necessary
adjunct of manhood. All men were cross sometimes. It behooved their
womankind, then, to throw oil on the troubled waters,--to speak
peaceably, and to refrain from sour looks, or even the shadow of a
frown. Archie was never cross with Grace: therefore it must be she,
Mattie, on whom the blame lay; she was such a silly little thing, And
so on. There is no need to follow the self-accusation of one of the
kindest hearts that ever beat.

"Did not your visit end as pleasantly as it began?" asked Elizabeth,
who, though she was over-merciful in her judgments, was not without a
good deal of sagacity and shrewdness. Something lay beyond the margin
of Mattie's words, she could see that plainly; and then her father was
getting impatient.

"Well, you see, that spoiled everything," returned Mattie, jumbling
her narrative in the oddest manner. "Archie was so sorry, and so was
I; and he got quite--you know his way when he feels uncomfortable. I
thought Miss Challoner was joking at first,--that it was just a bit of
make-believe fun,--until I saw how grave Miss Phillis, that is the
second one, looked: and then the little one--at least, she is not
little, but somehow one fancies she is--seemed as though she were
going to cry."

"But what did Miss Challoner say to distress you and Mr.