"I thought she entertained a high regard for The Tor—for your father," said mischievous Cyn.
"That is exactly it!" replied Celeste. "Too high a regard! Truly, she behaves very ridiculously! Why, she positively waylays pa! so indelicate in a woman, you know!" with sublime unconsciousness of ever having indulged in the pastime of waylaying herself! "Such an old creature, too! she is always coming and wanting to mend his old clothes and stockings! Poor pa actually has to lock himself in his room sometimes!"
The vision of "poor pa" thus pursued was too much for the gravity of the company, and there was a general laugh.
"It is true," asserted Celeste. "Now, isn't it, Ralfy?" appealing to her betrothed with appropriate bashfulness.
Everybody stared at this. No one before ever really knew that Quimby possessed a front door to his name, and he, as surprised as any one at the cognomen Love had discovered, fell back on a rolling log, and clutched his legs to that extent that they must have been black and blue for a week afterwards.
Clem saved the discomfited "Ralfy" the necessity of replying, by interposing with,
"Come! come! let us not talk on such incongru-
