hind
him. A fire burns brightly in the breakfast-room; and there is silence
about the house, for the children have gone off to climb Box Hill before
being marched to church.

The small and gentle lady who presides over the household walks sedately
in, and lifts the solitary letter that is lying on her plate. About
three seconds suffice to let her run through its contents, and then she
suddenly cries:

"I knew it! I said it! I told you two months ago she was only flirting
with him; and now she has rejected him. And oh! I am so glad of it! The
poor boy!"

The other person in the room, who had been meekly waiting for his
breakfast for half an hour, ventures to point out that there is nothing
to rejoice over in the fact of a young man having been rejected by a
young woman.

"If it were final, yes! If these two young folks were not certain to go
and marry somebody else, you might congratulate them both. But you know
they will. The poor boy will go courting again in three months' time,
and be vastly pleased with his condition."

"Oh, never, never!" she says. "He has had such a lesson! You know I
warned him. I knew she was only flirting with him. Poor Charlie! Now I
hope he will get on with his profession, and leave such things out of
his head. And as for that creature--"

"I will do you the justice to say," observes her husband, who is still
regarding the table with a longing eye, "that you did oppose this
match, because you hadn't the making of it. If you had brought these
two together they would have been married ere this. Never mind; you can
marry him to somebody of your own choosing now."

"No," she says, with much decision; "he must not think of marriage. He
cannot think of it. It will take the poor lad a long time to get over
this blow."

"He will marry within a year."

"I will bet you whatever you like that he doesn't," she says,
triumphantly.

"Whatever I like! That is a big wager. If you lose, do you think you
could pay? I should like, for example, to have my own way in my own
house."

"If I lose you shall," says the generous creature; and the bargain is
concluded.

Nothing further is said about this matter for the moment. The children
return from Box Hill, and are rigged out for church. Two young people,
friends of ours, and recently married, having no domestic circle of
their own, and having promised to spend the whole Christmas Day with
us, arrived. Then we set out, trying as much as possible to