Seated in one of the high-backed arm-chairs, with one white hand shading her laughing eyes from the light, and with her evening dress daintily spread out about her, Margaret was amused at the look of desperation on the old gentleman’s ruddy face. He squared his round body before the fire, braced himself with his plump legs well apart, as if he were preparing to sustain the shock of a blow, and taking a deep inspiration, gave a loud and prolonged “Whew!” This was too much for her. Margaret rose, and, going up to him, took his arm and looked into his face cajolingly. “Uncle, I was bound to have Rose, and Miss Jemima would not have let her come alone.” The tone was the low, almost plaintive key, the effectiveness of which Margaret knew so well. “‘Not let her!’” The Major faced her quickly. “Margaret, she is one of those _strong-minded_ women!” Margaret nodded brightly. “I bet my horse she wears iron-gray curls, caught on the side of her head with tucking combs!” “She does,” declared Margaret, her eyes dancing. “And has a long nose--red at the end.” “Uncle, you have seen her. I _know_ you have seen her,” asserted Margaret, laughing up at him. “You have her very picture.” The Major groaned, and vowed that he would never survive it, and that Margaret would go down to history as the slayer of her uncle. “I have selected my place in the graveyard,” he said, with a mournful shake of the head. “Put me close to the fence behind the raspberry thicket, where I shall be secure. Tell her there are snakes there.” “But, uncle, she is as good as gold,” declared Margaret; “she is always doing good,--I believe she thinks it her mission to save the world.” The Major burst out, “That’s part of this modern devilment of substituting humanitarianism for Christianity. Next thing they’ll be wanting to abolish hell!” The Major was so impressed with his peril that when Jeff, who had galloped over “for a little while,” entered, announced with great ceremony by George Washington, he poured out all his apprehensions into his sympathetic ear, and it was only when he began to rally Jeff on the chance of his becoming a victim to Miss Endicott’s charms, that Margaret interfered so far as to say, that Rose had any number of lovers, and one of them was “an awfully nice fellow, handsome and rich and all that.” She wished “some one” would invite him down to pay a visit in the neighborhood, for she was “afraid Rose would find it dreadfully dull in the country.” The Major announced that he would himself make love to her; but both Margaret and Jeff declared that Providence manifestly intended him for Miss Jemima. He then suggested that Miss Endicott’s friend be invited to come with her, but Margaret did not think that would do. “What is the name of this Paragon?” inquired Jeff. Margaret gave his name. “Mr. Lawrence--Pickering Lawrence.”