eir finger-tips; anything but gay!"

"No, they are not gay," Felix admitted. "They are sober; they are even
severe. They are of a pensive cast; they take things hard. I think there
is something the matter with them; they have some melancholy memory or
some depressing expectation. It 's not the epicurean temperament. My
uncle, Mr. Wentworth, is a tremendously high-toned old fellow; he looks
as if he were undergoing martyrdom, not by fire, but by freezing. But we
shall cheer them up; we shall do them good. They will take a good deal
of stirring up; but they are wonderfully kind and gentle. And they are
appreciative. They think one clever; they think one remarkable!"

"That is very fine, so far as it goes," said the Baroness. "But are we
to be shut up to these three people, Mr. Wentworth and the two young
women--what did you say their names were--Deborah and Hephzibah?"

"Oh, no; there is another little girl, a cousin of theirs, a very pretty
creature; a thorough little American. And then there is the son of the
house."

"Good!" said the Baroness. "We are coming to the gentlemen. What of the
son of the house?"

"I am afraid he gets tipsy."

"He, then, has the epicurean temperament! How old is he?"

"He is a boy of twenty; a pretty young fellow, but I am afraid he has
vulgar tastes. And then there is Mr. Brand--a very tall young man, a
sort of lay-priest. They seem to think a good deal of him, but I don't
exactly make him out."

"And is there nothing," asked the Baroness, "between these
extremes--this mysterious ecclesiastic and that intemperate youth?"

"Oh, yes, there is Mr. Acton. I think," said the young man, with a nod
at his sister, "that you will like Mr. Acton."

"Remember that I am very fastidious," said the Baroness. "Has he very
good manners?"

"He will have them with you. He is a man of the world; he has been to
China."

Madame Munster gave a little laugh. "A man of the Chinese world! He must
be very interesting."

"I have an idea that he brought home a fortune," said Felix.

"That is always interesting. Is he young, good-looking, clever?"

"He is less than forty; he has a baldish head; he says witty things. I
rather think," added the young man, "that he will admire the Baroness
Munster."

"It is very possible," said this lady. Her brother never knew how she
would take things; but shortly afterwards she declared that he had made
a very pretty description and that on the morrow she would go an