“I do not think he knows how.” “We must give him a few lessons. But never mind him now, Tom. Tell me about yourself and everybody. What have you been doing all this long time? Have you got yourself engaged yet?” “Not I, indeed. There has been far too much to do. I have been making myself a practical farmer, and I am great on lands and soils and crops; so if you are at a loss, consult your cousin.” “Thank you; I will with pleasure, for I am sure that I have very much to learn.” “And I am sure that farming was never so difficult as now. Father often looks worried, though he keeps wonderfully well, on the whole.” “I am glad of that. I want to see him. I shall have plenty to do, I find. I have actually already had an invitation to a wedding.” “Mary Wythburn’s, I suppose? You must accept it, John. I am to be one of the bridesmaids, and many of your old friends will be there.” “Give me a few names. First, the bridegroom: who is he?” “Alfred Greenholme is the bridegroom, Dr. Stapleton the groomsman, and the vicar, Mr. Sherborne, will also be present as a friend. The other bridesmaids are Hilda Copeland and Margaret Miller.” Tom glanced at her cousin as she uttered the last name, and saw that his countenance brightened. “How is Miss Miller, Tom? Are you as good friends as ever?” “Yes, we are good friends, and Margaret is very well. Which are the flowers whose names you have forgotten?” “I am afraid we have passed them. Let us go back and look for them. I hope Alfred Greenholme is not as a man what he was as a boy, or Miss Wythburn is little to be congratulated.” “She does not congratulate herself. In fact, I know that she is wretched. There is nothing very tangible against Mr. Greenholme. He is a lazy, self-pleasing, good-natured man; but girls of these days—some of them, at all events—want more than that. Mary Wythburn is a very clever girl, and far-seeing, too. She denounces such people as Mr. Greenholme. Like Mrs. Booth, she gets into a furious mood when she sees hosts of poor wretches starving, because they cannot get remunerative work to do, while men and women in good circumstances—professing Christianity, too—seem to have not a thought in life excepting that which touches their own pleasure. She thinks that if we are real Christians we cannot, and ought not, to be happy while so many are miserable, and I agree with her.” “I often think the same. But she ought not to marry Greenholme if she feels like that. And the invitations are out?”