There was William Henry, John Frank, Ferdinand Augustus, and Stephen Arthur. Each of them twice my size and all of them frightfully ignorant and wholly regardless of the sensitive little points of those with whom they came in contact. There is no circumlocution about them. They go straight at what they want; and were scarcely inside my door before they blurted out the purport of their coming. It was Frederick Augustus; if the thing is possible he is, if anything, more direct even than the rest of his family. "Look here, Whiting, how about Mary Ann's ring? The girl is fretting, but you don't seem to notice it. And as you don't appear to know what is the proper thing to do in a case of this kind, and don't understand that the ring ought to be bought straight away, we've bought it for you." I gasped--positively gasped. "Am I to understand that you've purchased my engagement ring?" "That's it; on your account. From a cousin of ours who's in that line." I never saw people like the Snellings for possessing relatives in all sorts of "lines." No matter what you want, or do not want, and never will want, they are sure to have some relative who has dealt in it, his or her whole life long. They produced the ring, and told me what I had to pay for it. A handsome price it was. I was persuaded that somebody besides that cousin got a profit out of Mary Ann's engagement ring. But I handed over the amount. I did not want any unpleasantness; and I am quite sure there would have been unpleasantness had I demurred. Later in the day I took it with me when I went to call on Mary Ann. She appeared to be surprised almost into speechlessness when I presented it to her. Her head dropped on my shoulder, and she kissed me under the chin, observing, "You dear old Sam." The moments when I am alone with Mary Ann are alleviations for those more frequent moments when I am not alone with Mary Ann. Still I noticed that the ring fitted her perfectly, and I could not but wonder if she had tried it on before. At the same time I am beginning to be comforted by a suspicion that Mary Ann is on my side; on my side, that is, as against the rest of her family. There has been a difference of opinion as to where we are to spend our honeymoon. It is from her action in that matter that my suspicion springs. The Snellings have an aunt who lives in an out-of-the-way hole at the other end of nowhere. The woman's name is Brady. There she owns a cottage, or it may be a pigstye for all I know. When she heard of my engagement with Mary Ann, she wrote and suggested that we should spend our honeymoon in her cottage, or pigstye, and that I should pay her rent for it. The matter was talked about at dinner. Mary Ann was silent for some time; then she quietly remarked: "Don't trouble yourselves to discuss Aunt Brady's proposal. I shall do nothing of the kind."