"I never saw Archie enjoy himself so much or seem so thoroughly at home anywhere. Somehow, the girls put us so at our ease. Though they were hanging up curtains when we went in,--and any one else would have been annoyed at our intruding so soon,--actually, before we were in the room a moment, Archie was on the steps, helping the eldest Miss Challoner fasten the hooks." Miss Middleton exchanged an amused look with her father. Mattie's narrative was decidedly interesting. "Oh, don't tell him I repeated that, for he is always calling me chatterbox!" implored Mattie, who feared she had been indiscreet, and that the colonel was not to be trusted, which was quite true as far as jokes were concerned. No one understood the art of teasing better than he, and the young vicar had already had a taste of his kindly satire. "Archie only meant to be good-natured and put every one at their ease." "Quite right. Mr. Drummond is always kind," returned Elizabeth, benignly. She had forgotten Mattie's frequent scoldings, and the poor little thing's tired face, or she would never have hazarded such a compromise with truth. But somehow Elizabeth always forgot people's weaknesses, especially when they were absent. It was so nice and easy to praise people; and if she always believed what she said, that was because her faith was so strong, and charity that is love was her second nature. "Oh, yes, of course," returned Mattie, innocently. She was far too loyal a little soul to doubt Archie's kindness for a moment. Was he not the pride and ornament of the family,--the domestic pope who issued his bulls without possibility of contradiction? Whatever Archie did must be right. Was not that their domestic creed?--a little slavish, perhaps, but still so exquisitely feminine. Mattie was of opinion that--well, to use a mild term--irritability was a necessary adjunct of manhood. All men were cross sometimes. It behooved their womankind, then, to throw oil on the troubled waters,--to speak peaceably, and to refrain from sour looks, or even the shadow of a frown. Archie was never cross with Grace: therefore it must be she, Mattie, on whom the blame lay; she was such a silly little thing, And so on. There is no need to follow the self-accusation of one of the kindest hearts that ever beat. "Did not your visit end as pleasantly as it began?" asked Elizabeth, who, though she was over-merciful in her judgments, was not without a good deal of sagacity and shrewdness. Something lay beyond the margin of Mattie's words, she could see that plainly; and then her father was getting impatient.