"People say a great deal more than they know," said Harry, hastily. "Well," rejoined his sister, playfully, "be that as it may, Harry, I should like to see the young lady; and beside, I want as many pretty girls as I can get, they always make a party brilliant--and you say she is pretty, don't you, Harry?" "Beautiful," he replied, with an earnestness that startled Mrs. Castleton. "You'll have no prettier girl here, I promise you that, Laura," he added, presently, more quietly. "But what will Emma say," he continued, bitterly. "She'll never give her consent, depend upon it, to your calling." "It's not necessary that she should," said Mrs. Castleton, good humoredly; "so perhaps I had better not ask her." "Emma gives herself airs," continued Harry, angrily. "She thinks that all the world are just confined to her one little _clique_; that there's neither beauty, nor sense, nor any thing else out of her particular set. Now I can tell her that there's more beauty among those who don't give themselves half the airs, and who she looks down upon, than there is to be found among her 'fashionables.' But Emma is perfectly ridiculous with her 'exclusive' nonsense," he continued, with much feeling, evidently showing how deeply he resented his sister's reflections upon the style and stamp of his present admiration, Miss Dawson. "Oh," said Mrs. Castleton, soothingly, "it's a mistake all very young girls make, Harry. They know nothing out of one circle. Of course, they disparage all others." But Harry was not to be quieted so easily. He was not satisfied until he had poured forth all his complaints against Emma; and Mrs. Castleton found it best not to take her part, but trust to the result of her experiment of the next week with putting him in good humor with her again. "Will you call with me?" she continued, presently. "I have ordered the carriage at one." He looked pleased, and said he would. But after a little while he seemed to grow nervous and fidgetty--walked about the room--asked a good many questions, without seeming to attend much to the answers, and at last said, hurriedly, "Well, Laura, it's rather late, and I have an engagement down town--do you care about my calling with you? You know it's only necessary for you to leave your card. You need not go in even, if you don't care about it." "Oh, certainly," she replied. "No, don't wait for me." And he took his hat and darted off like light, as if he had made an escape from he hardly knew what. Mrs. Castleton could not but laugh as she heard him shut the hall-door, almost before she was aware he had left the room, well pleased with this indication of susceptibility on his part, which she took as a good omen of the future, fully believing that "future events cast their shadows before." "If Harry were nervous already, what would he be on Thursday evening." The call was made. Miss Dawson was out. A card was left, with an invitation, which, in due time, was accepted.