grown up,
then you see how much better off you were before,--that is, if you've
got common sense. I wish my girls had half as much all put together as
Emily has.'

'I'm sure I don't wish I was a child,' remarked Geraldine, as she bit
her bread-and-butter.

'Of course you don't, Geraldine,' replied Dagworthy, who was on terms of
much familiarity with all the girls. 'If you were, your mother wouldn't
let you come down late to breakfast, would she?'

'I never remember being in time for breakfast since I was born,' cried
the girl.

'I dare say your memory doesn't go far enough back,' rejoined Dagworthy,
with the smile of one who trifled from a position of superior age and
experience.

Mrs. Cartwright laughed with a little embarrassment. Amy, the eldest
girl, was quick with an inquiry whether Emily had been as yet to the
Agricultural Show, the resort at present of all pleasure-seeking
Dunfieldians. Emily replied that she had not, and to this subject the
talk strayed. Mr. Dagworthy had dogs on exhibition at the show. Barbara
wanted to know how much he would take for a certain animal which had
captivated her; if she had some idea that this might lead to an offer of
the dog as a present, she was doomed to disappointment, for Dagworthy
named his price in the most matter-of-fact way. But nothing had excited
so much interest in these young ladies as the prize pigs; they were in
raptures at the incredible degree of fatness attained; they delighted to
recall that some of the pigs were fattened to such a point that rollers
had to be placed under their throats to keep their heads up and prevent
them from being choked by the pressure of their own superabundant flesh.
In all this conversation Dagworthy took his part, but not quite with the
same freedom as before Emily's arrival. His eyes turned incessantly in
her direction, and once or twice he only just saved himself from
absent-mindedness when a remark was addressed to him. It was with
obvious reluctance that he at length rose to leave.

'When are you all coming to see me?' he asked, as he stood smoothing his
felt hat with the back of his hand. 'I suppose I shall have to give a
croquet party, and have some of the young fellows, then you'll come fast
enough. Old men like myself you care nothing about.'

'I should think not, indeed,' replied Barbara the plain. 'Why, your
hair's going grey. If you didn't shave, you'd have had grey whiskers
long ago.'

'When I invite the others