of it before?"

"No, I had not."

"And is it a good match? She is a fine girl, isn't she?"

"I know really nothing of the matter, Mrs. Nettley -- I have
never seen the gentleman."

"Really! Haven't you? -- then it _was_ news," said the lady. "I
thought you were accustomed to see them so often -- I didn't
think I was telling you anything. George and I -- you must
forgive us, Mr. Winthrop, people will have such thoughts; they
will come in, and you cannot help it -- I don't know what's to
keep 'em out, unless one could put bars and gates upon one's
minds, and you can't well do that; -- but George and I used to
have suspicions of you, Mr. Landholm. Well, I have interrupted
you long enough. Dear! what windows! I'm ashamed. I'll send
the girl up, the first chance you are out of the house. I told
her to come up too; but she is heedless. I haven't been to see
'em myself in I don't know how many days; but you're always so
terribly busy -- and now I've staid twice too long!" --

And away she hurried, softly closing the door after her.

Mr. Landholm's quiet study was remarkably quiet for a good
while after she went out. No leaf of his book rustled over;
not a foot of his chair grated on the floor, -- for though the
floor did boast a bit of carpet, it lay not where he sat, by
the window; and the coals and firebrands fell noiselessly down
into the ashes and nobody was reminded that the fire would
burn itself out in time if it was let alone. The morning light
grew stronger, and the sunbeams that never got there till
between nine and ten o'clock, walked into the room; and they
found Winthrop Landholm with his elbow on the table and his
head in his hand, where they often were; but with his eyes
where they _not_ often were -- on the floor. The sunbeams said
very softly that it was time to be at the office, but they
said it very softly, and Winthrop did not hear them.

He heard however presently a footstep on the stair, in the
next story at first, and then mounting the uppermost flight
that led to the attic. A heavy brisk energetic footstep, -- not
Mrs. Nettley's soft and slow tread, nor the more deliberate
one of her brother. Winthrop listened a moment, and then as
the last impatient creak of the boot stopped at his threshold
he knew who would open the door. It was Rufus.

"_Here_ you are. Why I expected to find you at the office!" was
the first cheery exclamation, after the brothers had clasped
hands.

"What did you come