"I was thinking of your father; and trying to realize that he belongs to the same species with others I could name. I am compelled to the conclusion that he is an appendix, a later creation, a type of what man would have been had he not 'sought out many inventions.'" "And what new instance of his immaculateness has induced this sapient belief?" "I was sitting at the window this afternoon, before he went out, when I heard him call to little Dick to bring his saddle-bags from 'the office.' The boy scampered off, and presently appeared running, still holding the precious load with great care in both hands. 'Steady, my lad,' said your father, and as the warning passed his lips, Dick tripped his foot, and came down--the saddle-bags under him. He cried loudly, and your father ran to pick him up--what do you suppose he said!" "Inquired if he was hurt, of course." "He did--but reflect! every phial was smashed, and that is no trifle this far from the city, I take it. Yes--he set the little chap upon his feet, and asked after the integrity of his bones; and when he sobbed, '_I_ ain't hurt, sir--but de bottles--dey's all broke!' patted him upon the head, and bade him 'stop crying--master isn't angry--you won't run so fast next time,' and let him go. Then, kneeling upon the grass, he unlocked the portable apothecary-shop, and pulled out gallipots and packages, fractured and stained in every imaginable shape and manner--looking seriously perplexed. 'This is an awkward business,' he said, aloud; 'and my stock is so nearly out! but accidents will happen.'" "And is that all?" said Carry. "'All!' I have seen men affect forbearance, and talk largely of forgiveness, when they wanted to 'show off,' but he did not know that I was within hearing. Some other principle was at work. I wonder," she said, with a short laugh, "what my esteemed guardian would have said upon the occasion! He punishes a menial more severely for an accident, or thoughtlessness, than for deliberate villany." "I do not pretend to uphold Mr. Read's doctrines or practice. I am afraid he is thoroughly selfish, and Josephine is too close a copy of him to suit my fancy--but why think or speak of them? Did you not promise to see life through my spectacles awhile? There is a hard look in your eye, and a scorn in your tone, when you refer to them, that repel me. It is so unlike you!" "So _like_ me, Carry! My character is velvet or fur--stroke it in one direction, and you enhance whatever of beauty or gloss it possesses; reverse the motion, and you encounter rough prickles, and in certain states of the atmosphere, more electricity than is agreeable or safe. I am not changed. The hand of affection is gliding over me now; you may do what you will with me." "But you are happier than you used to be?"