“It must be a melancholy and most insupportable deprivation,” chimed in Emilie Jones, “to spend a whole fortnight on the stretch in such an ugly and unsightly village as this of N. has the reputation of being, especially in the summer, and all that time, not so much as _see_ fiery red brick palisades towering up on both sides of you, and pouring down on your ‘devoted head’ a perfect torrent of heat! I am sure if I were anybody’s ‘metropolitan friends,’ I should mourn being obliged to set my feet on the cool grass! How I should miss the scorching them on a hot pavement, to say nothing of the disadvantage to my lungs of inhaling fresh clear air, instead of dust and cigar smoke, and all sorts of vile fumes and abominations! What is your taste, Mr. Style?” “I am a great lover of the country, and particularly of this beautiful village, Miss Emilie,” gallantly replied Mr. Style. “Well, well, Emilie, enough of your mischief for once,” said Adelaide Varley, with a very severe smile which she meant for an indifferent one. “We all know you are more wicked than citified. But my watch says it is time to go home, and I guess Mrs. Tower will be glad to be rid of such a set of chatter-boxes as we have proved ourselves this time.” “Mr. Style will write a livelier sermon for it, I’ll wager my thimble, after he has slept upon the savor of our conversation,” said Emilie, as she gave him her hand at parting, and turned gayly round to bid Mrs. Tower good night. “Come again, dears, every one of you,” said Mrs. Tower, as she smiled on the youthful group, “come every day and enliven us with the life of such glad spirits. Mr. Style would lead a most monotonous life indeed if _I_ were all the company he could have.” “You, indeed, my dearest Mrs. Tower,” replied Emilie. “That man is verily avaricious who covets better or more charming society than our most delightful hostess of this evening, to say nothing of the ice creams and etceteras! Yes, worthy of stripes is he, whether clergyman or layman!” And Emilie finished her speech with a quick glance at the young minister, and her own peculiarly rich and musical shout of mirth, and tripped lightly down the terrace and across the wide and shaded street to her own home. As the other young ladies of the party had farther to go, Mr. Style took them all under his protection, rendering particular assistance to Miss Charlotte, who complained of excessive weariness and lassitude. Beside, being occasionally afflicted with a difficulty of the heart, she could not walk so fast as some of the girls, so Mr. Style found himself safely at Mrs. Varley’s door with his delicate charge, many minutes after all the others were laughing and speculating about it in their own rooms.