ion to uphold his own cause.

"Don't be absurd. I declare," with a little burst of amusement, "when
he--they--told me about it, I never felt so happy in my life."

"Except when you married me." He throws quite a tragical expression into
his face, that is, however, lost upon her.

"Of course, with her present fortune, she might have made what the world
would call a more distinguished match. But his family are
unexceptionable, and he has some money--not much, I know, but still,
some. And even if he hadn't she has now enough for both. After
all"--with noble disregard of the necessaries of life--"what is money?"

"Dross--mere dross!" says Mr. Monkton.

"And he is just the sort of man not to give a thought to it."

"He couldn't, my dear. Heroes of romance are quite above all that sort
of thing."

"Well, he is, certainly," says Mrs. Monkton, a little offended. "You may
go on pretending as much as you like, Freddy, but I know you think about
him just as I do. He is exactly the sort of charming character to make
Joyce happy."

"Nearly as happy as I have made you!" says her husband, severely.

"Dear me, Freddy--I really do wish you would try and forget yourself for
one moment!"

"I might be able to do that, my dear, if I were quite sure that you were
not forgetting me, too."

"Oh, as to that! I declare you are a perfect baby! You love teasing.
Well--there then!" The "there" represents a kiss, and Mr. Monkton,
having graciously accepted this tribute to his charms, condescends to
come down from his mental elevation and discuss the new engagement with
considerable affability. Once, indeed, there is a dangerous lapse back
into his old style, but this time there seems to be occasion for it.

"When they stood there stammering and stuttering, Freddy, and looking so
awfully silly, I declare I was so glad about it that I actually kissed
him!'"

"What!" says Mr. Monkton. "And you have lived to tell the tale! You
have, therefore; lived too long. Perfidious woman, prepare for death."

"I declare I think you'd have done it," says Barbara, eloquently.
Whereupon, having reconsidered her speech, they both give way to mirth.

"I'll try it when I see him," says Monkton. "Even a hero of romance
couldn't object to a chaste salute from me."

"He is coming to dinner. I hope when you do see him. Freddy,"--anxiously
this--"you will be very sober about it."

"Barbara! You know I never get--er--that is--not before dinner at all
event