"It would be a great change for you, Mary. Now you have everything provided that heart need desire. And I have always counted on you girls doing so well," said the mother, with a sigh. Mrs. Manning looked regretfully into Mary's face, flushed with the sweet consciousness of being truly loved by the one whom she would have chosen from all the world. "Shall I not be doing well, mother?" she asked, very softly. "What higher lot need a woman desire than to be the wife of a good man—one whom she can reverence and look up to?" "But you will be poor, Mary. And lately you have known nothing of poverty, though you can remember those years of trial when every penny had to be counted. Ah! I thought you would all take warning by that season of adversity! I can hardly bear to look back upon it now." "I can," said Mary, "and thank God for it. But for having gone through some trouble, how should I be fitted to sympathise with others? That precious time—for it was precious, darling mother, though to you it seems sad as you look back on it—was just my training ground. But for it I should be frightened to share Charles's responsibilities. Mother, dear, do not say No. Charles seems sure of Uncle Edward's consent." "My dear child, just think how you will live on two hundred a year! How will you make ends meet?" "Did you ever hear a story of Uncle Edward's, about an old bachelor friend of his, who was inclined to marry?" "I cannot tell, Mary. Uncle Edward's stories are too frequent for me to know which of them you are alluding to. Go on. I see by your face that the moral of it will be an argument for marrying upon next to nothing a year." Truly, the rippling smile that crossed the young face was suggestive enough, and Mary lost no time in telling her story. "He was not quite an old bachelor at the time, but verging on it, and had been very careful and saving. I do not know how much the man had a year, but it was enough to set him considering as to whether what was enough for a single man would suffice for a married one. He tested the matter in this wise. He had a large pie made, and when it was placed on the table, he divided it equally, and surveying one half, said, 'Yes; there would be enough.' Then he cut the halves into quarters, having made the calculation that there might in time be more than two to provide for." "Very prudent, my dear. What was the result of the second calculation?" "That it would still do very well; but not contented, he divided the pieces again. Ah, mamma. How shall I tell you? He decided that such a division would not do at all. Placing his arms round the dish, he said, 'Come all to myself,' and from that time relinquished every thought of matrimony." "Do you call that an argument in favour of your marriage, Mary?" asked the mother, with a hearty laugh.