iling.

"Is it possible, Ernest? Listen again, then. My
great-grandfather--recollect him, now--married the uncle of a
cousin--observe, the uncle of a cousin----"

"What! your great-grandfather married the _uncle_ of somebody's
cousin? Is it possible?"

"Now you are laughing at me," said Hoffland, pouting; "what if I did
get it a little wrong? I meant that my great-grandmother married the
uncle of a cousin of cousin Lucy's wife's great-grandfather's
aunt--who----"

"Lucy's wife is then involved, is she, Charles?" asked Mowbray; "but
go on."

"No, I won't!" said Hoffland; "you are just trying to confuse and
embarrass me. I will not tell you any more: but cousin Lucy
understands; don't you, Miss Lucy?"

"Quite enough to understand that we occupy a closer relationship than
we seem to," said Lucy, threatening to burst into laughter.

Hoffland gave her a warning glance; and then assuming a polite and
graceful smile, asked:

"Pray, what were you and Mr. Denis talking of, my dear Ernest? Come,
tell a fellow!"

Lucy turned away and covered her face, which was crimson with
laughter.

"We were speaking of the quarrel which we were unfortunate enough to
have, sir," said poor Denis coldly; "and I referred Mr. Mowbray to you
for an account of it."

"To me?" said Hoffland smiling; "why not tell him yourself?"

"I did not fancy it, sir."

"Why, in the world?"

"Come! come!" said Mowbray smiling, and wishing to nip the new
altercation in the bud; "don't let us talk any more about it. It is
all ended now, and I don't care to know----"

"Why, there's nothing to conceal," said Hoffland, laughing.

Denis colored.

"I'll tell you in an instant," laughed the boy.

Lucy turned toward him; and Denis looked out of the window.

"We were talking of women first," continued Hoffland; "a subject,
cousin Lucy, which we men discuss much oftener than you ladies
imagine----"

"Indeed!" said Lucy, nearly choking with laughter.

"Yes," continued the boy; "and after agreeing that Miss Theorem the
mathematician was charming; Miss Quartz the geologist lovely; that
Miss Affectation was very _piquante_, and Mrs. Youngwidow exceedingly
fine-looking in her mourning; after having amicably interchanged our
ideas on these topics, we came to discuss the celebrated lunar
theory."

"What is that?" asked Lucy.

"Simply the question, what the moon is made of."

"Indeed?"

"Certainly. Mr. Denis took the common and erroneous view famili