in his arms than I would in a church."

"Well, I'm sure!" exclaimed Mrs. Snow.

"Isn't it remarkable!" said Miss Snow.

"Quite delightful!" exclaimed the second sister, whose enthusiasm could
not be crammed into Miss Snow's expression.

"Really charming," added Number Three.

"You are quite sure you don't know what you want to marry him for?" said
Mrs. Snow, with a roguish twinkle in her eye. "You are quite sure you
don't love him?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Miss Butterworth. "It's something. I wish you
could hear him talk. His grammar would kill you. It would just kill you.
You'd never breathe after it. Such awful nominative cases as that man
has! And you can't beat him out of them. And such a pronunciation! His
words are just as rough as he is, and just like him. They seem to have a
great deal more meaning in them than they do when they have good clothes
on. You don't know how I enjoy hearing him talk."

"I'm inclined to think you love him," said Mrs. Snow, smiling.

"I don't know. Isn't it the most ridiculous thing, now?"

"No; it isn't ridiculous at all," said Mrs. Snow, soberly.

Miss Butterworth's moon was sailing high that evening. There were but
few clouds in her heaven, but occasionally a tender vapor passed across
the silver disk, and one passed at this moment. Her eyes were loaded
with tears as she looked up in Mrs. Snow's face, and said:

"I was very lonely, you know. Life had become very tame, and I saw
nothing before me different from my daily experience, which had grown to
be wearisome. Jim came and opened a new life to me, offered me
companionship, new circumstances, new surroundings. It was like being
born again. And, do you know, I don't think it is natural for a woman to
carry her own life. I got very tired of mine, and when this strong man
came, and was willing to take it up, and bear it for me as the greatest
pleasure I could bestow upon him, what could I do--now, what could I do?
I don't think I'm proud of him, but I belong to him, and I'm glad; and
that's all there is about it;" and Miss Butterworth sprang to her feet
as if she were about to leave the house.

"You are not going," said Mrs. Snow, catching her by both shoulders, "so
sit down."

"I've told you the whole: there's nothing more. I suppose it will be a
great wonder to the Sevenoaks people, and that they'll think I'm
throwing myself away, but I do hope they will let me alone."

"When are you to be married?"

"In the spr