it at all," protested Lapham.

"And if you can't bring it about, you're going to feel unhappy over
it," pursued his wife, regardless of his protest.

"Oh, very well," he said. "If you know more about what's in my mind
than I do, there's no use arguing, as I can see."

He got up, to carry off his consciousness, and sauntered out of the
door on to his piazza. He could see the young people down on the
rocks, and his heart swelled in his breast. He had always said that he
did not care what a man's family was, but the presence of young Corey
as an applicant to him for employment, as his guest, as the possible
suitor of his daughter, was one of the sweetest flavours that he had
yet tasted in his success. He knew who the Coreys were very well, and,
in his simple, brutal way, he had long hated their name as a symbol of
splendour which, unless he should live to see at least three
generations of his descendants gilded with mineral paint, he could not
hope to realise in his own. He was acquainted in a business way with
the tradition of old Phillips Corey, and he had heard a great many
things about the Corey who had spent his youth abroad and his father's
money everywhere, and done nothing but say smart things. Lapham could
not see the smartness of some of them which had been repeated to him.
Once he had encountered the fellow, and it seemed to Lapham that the
tall, slim, white-moustached man, with the slight stoop, was everything
that was offensively aristocratic. He had bristled up aggressively at
the name when his wife told how she had made the acquaintance of the
fellow's family the summer before, and he had treated the notion of
young Corey's caring for Irene with the contempt which such a
ridiculous superstition deserved. He had made up his mind about young
Corey beforehand; yet when he met him he felt an instant liking for
him, which he frankly acknowledged, and he had begun to assume the
burden of his wife's superstition, of which she seemed now ready to
accuse him of being the inventor.

Nothing had moved his thick imagination like this day's events since
the girl who taught him spelling and grammar in the school at
Lumberville had said she would have him for her husband.

The dark figures, stationary on the rocks, began to move, and he could
see that they were coming toward the house. He went indoors, so as not
to appear to have been watching them.

VIII.

A WEEK after she had parted with her son a