Major Welch did not see why it should be “of course”; but he considered that his wife knew more of such things than he did, and he accordingly accepted her opinion without question. “Where is Ruth?” he asked. “She went with Dr. Still to see a sick woman he wanted me to see. I was not able to go this afternoon when he called, so I sent her. I don’t think there is much the matter with her.” Major Welch sat for a moment in deep reflection. He was evidently puzzled. Suddenly he broke the silence. “Prudence, you don’t mean that you wish that—that you think that young fellow is a suitable—ah—companion for our daughter?” That was not the word Major Welch meant. “William!” exclaimed Mrs. Welch. She said no more, and it was not necessary. Major Welch felt that he had committed a great mistake—a terrible blunder. A moment before, he had had the best of the situation, and he had been conscious of a feeling of somewhat exalted virtue; now he had thrown it away. He felt very foolish, and though he hoped he did not show it, he did show it plainly. He began to defend himself: a further blunder. “Well, my dear, how could I know? That young fellow has been coming over here day after day, with his horses and buggies, on one pretext or another—tagging after—not after you or me certainly—and you are as civil to him as if he were the—the President himself, and actually send the child off with him——” “William! Send the child off with him!—I!” “Well, no—not exactly that, of course,” said her husband, rather embarrassed, “but permitting her to go, and thus giving him an opportunity to declare himself, which he would be a stick not to avail himself of.” “I am glad you retracted that, William,” said Mrs. Welch, with the air of one deeply aggrieved. “Of course, I am civil to the young man. I hope I am civil to everyone. But you little know a mother’s heart. I have always said that no man can understand a woman.” “I believe that’s so,” said her husband, smiling. “I know I have often heard your Royal Highness say so. But did it ever occur to you that it may be because men are somewhat direct and downright? “ “Now don’t go and insult my sex to cover the density of yours,” said Mrs. Welch. “Confine your attack to one. If you think that I would allow my daughter to marry that—that young upstart, you don’t know me as well as you did the first day we met.” “Oh, yes I do! I know you well enough to know you are the best and most devoted wife and mother and friend in the world,” declared her husband. “But, you see, I misunderstood you. I reason simply from the plain facts that lie right before my eyes——” “And you always will misunderstand, my dear. Your sex always will misunderstand until they learn that woman is a more complex and finer organism that their clumsy, primary machine, moved by more delicate and complicated motives.”