"You have seen more of them than I have, Mr. Stoneman. But everybody seems to say that they are most delightful. And even my poor brother George,--but I forgot,--forgive me, I am not supposed to know anything of that." "But I do. I know everything about it," that treacherous stockbroker whispered: can any man be loyal to his best friend, when in love? "What a lucky chance that you should speak of that!" "Excuse me, Mr. Stoneman; but I never spoke of anything. Only when a mystery is dwelling in one's mind, about one of those who naturally are the dearest to one, and when one's parents do not condescend--you see what I mean; though I really mean nothing." "Precisely. And with such swift intelligence as yours! It is not for me to hint at my own weak ideas--such a thing as that I never do. And when no one in the family cares a fig for my opinion----" "It is not at all fair of you to say that." Grace cast down her eyes, and then turned away in the most bewitching manner. The stockbroker jumped up from his brown milk-pan; but she looked at him, and he sat down again. "Be careful, Mr. Stoneman, for I am afraid it has a crack. Sally says they cannot make them, as they used to do! But as I was saying, both my father and my mother are thoroughly aware of all your good-will. And there is not a tenant on the property, I am sure----" "How can I think about the blessed tenants? Though of course I try to do my duty to them. But oh, do give me a little taste of butter after that." "Am I a rogue, that I should dare do such a thing? Twenty-two pounds there, and not a pennyweight to spare. And old Mrs. Ramshorn made a fuss last time. After a cigar, how can you taste? Your taste must be very far from perfect." "My taste is absolute perfection; and that is why--what I mean is, why I enjoy this most exquisite result. But a coward is ever so much worse than a rogue; and to shrink from the test is cowardly. I could never have believed it of Miss Cranleigh." "Very well. But you shall pay for what you eat. I will take it from one of your own pats, that are going to the Hall in half an hour. But you must not blame me if it is not first-rate. Slemmick, the cleverest man we have, says that there is a leaf coming down now, which gets between the blades of grass, and it is useless for the cows to blow at it, for it makes a point of getting into their very finest butter. George calls it nonsense. But what right has he, when Slemmick was brought up so much more out of doors?" "Slemmick is sure to know most about it. A man who has never heard the names of things, always knows most about them. Therefore do let me give true judgment on the butter." "Then you have never heard the name of butter!" "Oh dear, oh dear! you leave one less than a shred of the soundest argument," was the reply of the infatuated stockbroker. "Reason" would have been the noun to use, after a twelvemonth of matrimony.