in this
world."

"She made no trouble. It was my mother and sister. They were so awfully
afraid of her. And they drilled George in; so among them they were too
many for me. But I think Appledore is the nicest place I know."

"You might buy one of the islands--a little money would do it--build a
lodge, and have your Europe always at hand; when the winter is gone, as
you say. Even the winter you might manage to live through, if you could
secure the right sort of society. Hey, Tom? Isn't that an idea? I
wonder it never occurred to you. I think one might bid defiance to the
world, if one were settled at the Isles of Shoals."

"Yes," said Tom, with something very like a groan. "If one hadn't a
mother and sister."

"You are heathenish!"

"I'm not, at all!" returned Tom passionately. "See here, Philip. There
is one thing goes before mother and sister; and that you know. It's a
man's wife. And I've seen my wife, and I can't get her."

"Why?" said Dillwyri dryly. He was hanging over the side of the
gondola, and looking attentively at the play of colour in the water;
which reflecting the sky in still splendour where it lay quiet, broke
up in ripples under the gondolier's oar, and seemed to scatter diamonds
and amethysts and topazes in fairy-like prodigality all around.

"I've told you!" said Tom fretfully.

"Yes, but I do not comprehend. Does not the lady in question like
Appledore as well as you do?"

"She likes Appledore well enough. I do not know how well she likes me.
I never had a chance to find out. I don't think she _dis_likes me,
though," said Tom meditatively.

"It is not too late to find out yet," Philip said, with even more
dryness in his tone.

"O, isn't it, though!" said Tom. "I'm tied up from ever asking her now.
I'm engaged to another woman."

"Tom!" said the other, suddenly straightening himself up.

"Don't shout at a fellow! What could I do? They wouldn't let me have
what I wanted; and now they're quite pleased, and Julia has gone home.
She has done her work. O, I am making an excellent match. 'An old
family, and three hundred thousand dollars,' as my mother says. That's
all one wants, you know."

"Who is the lady?"

"It don't matter, you know, when you have heard her qualifications.
It's Miss Dulcimer--one of the Philadelphia Dulcimers. Of course one
couldn't make a better bargain for oneself. And I'm as fond of her as I
can be; in fact, I was afraid I was getting _too_ fond. So I ran away,