hemselves," said Dorothy.

"I quite agree with you that laughter is a very good thing,--in
its place. I am not at all one of those who would make the world
altogether grave. There are serious things, and there must be serious
moments."

"Of course," said Dorothy.

"And I think that serious conversation upon the whole has more
allurements than conversation which when you come to examine it is
found to mean nothing. Don't you?"

"I suppose everybody should mean something when he talks."

"Just so. That is exactly my idea," said Mr. Gibson. "On all such
subjects as that I should be so sorry if you and I did not agree. I
really should." Then he paused, and Dorothy was so confounded by what
she conceived to be the dangers of the coming moment that she was
unable even to think what she ought to say. She heard Mrs. MacHugh's
clear, sharp, merry voice, and she heard her aunt's tone of pretended
anger, and she heard Sir Peter's continued laughter, and Brooke
Burgess as he continued the telling of some story; but her own
trouble was too great to allow of her attending to what was going on
at the other end of the room. "There is nothing as to which I am so
anxious as that you and I should agree about serious things," said
Mr. Gibson.

"I suppose we do agree about going to church," said Dorothy. She knew
that she could have made no speech more stupid, more senseless, more
inefficacious;--but what was she to say in answer to such an
assurance?

"I hope so," said Mr. Gibson; "and I think so. Your aunt is a most
excellent woman, and her opinion has very great weight with me on all
subjects,--even as to matters of church discipline and doctrine, in
which, as a clergyman, I am of course presumed to be more at home.
But your aunt is a woman among a thousand."

"Of course I think she is very good."

"And she is so right about this young man and her property. Don't you
think so?"

"Quite right, Mr. Gibson."

"Because you know, to you, of course, being her near relative, and
the one she has singled out as the recipient of her kindness, it
might have been cause for some discontent."

"Discontent to me, Mr. Gibson!"

"I am quite sure your feelings are what they ought to be. And for
myself, if I ever were,--that is to say, supposing I could be in any
way interested--. But perhaps it is premature to make any suggestion
on that head at present."

"I don't at all understand what you mean, Mr. Gibson."

"I thought that perhap