"Why," Mrs. Sanford said rather hesitatingly, "she might have Clarence Toxteth, if she only chose." "How do you know?" "I do know, and that's enough," his wife answered importantly. "He's half dead for her." "He'll be whole dead before he gets her, unless she's a bigger fool than I ever thought her." "Now, Charles, that's the way you always talk. What have you got against Clarence?" "He hasn't any brains, for one thing." "He must have," Mrs. Sanford returned, as if her logic admitted of no controversy. "Just see what a smart father he's got! What a sight of money Orrin Toxteth has made!" "Nonsense! His brains stand in the same relation to his father's as froth does to beer. Good-night. I want to go to sleep." "You always were prejudiced against Clarence Toxteth," the wife said. But Dr. Sanford allowed this to be the last word by answering nothing. Mrs. Sanford felt that irritation which one feels who cannot understand how any point of view but one's own is possible. Not to be foiled, she abandoned the attempt to convince her husband, only to concentrate her energies upon her daughter. Very naturally she attempted to dazzle her eyes with the wealth which so bewitched her own fancy. Knowing by experience the difficulty of dealing abruptly with Patty, she began by throwing out hints which seemed to her the acme of strategical tactics, but which were in reality so transparent, that Flossy and Patty made merry over them without stint. Of course, this came to nothing; and Mrs. Sanford would have been the most obtuse of mortals, had she failed to perceive that she produced no impression in the suitor's favor. But the doughty woman had obstinacy, if not firmness; and, the more her plans did not succeed, the more firmly she clung to them. She prepared for the attack; and her daughter, foreseeing what was to come, steeled herself for the combat.