"I'll shake hands with you there," said the doctor; "but that puppy of a Hyacinth is my _especial_ aversion, though Ruth is bad enough in her way; a mincing, conceited, tip-toeing, be-curled, be-perfumed popinjay--faugh! Do you suppose, Mis. Hall, there _can_ be anything in a man who wears fancy neck-ties, a seal ring on his little finger, and changes his coat and vest a dozen times a day? No; he's a sensuous fop, that tells the whole story; ought to be picked up with a pair of sugar-tongs, and laid carefully on a rose-leaf. Ineffable puppy!" "They made a great fuss about his writings," said the old lady. "_Who_ made a fuss? Fudge--there's that piece of his about 'The Saviour'; he describes him as he would a Broadway dandy. That fellow is all surface, I tell you; there's no depth in him. How should there be? Isn't he an Ellet? but look, here comes his father." * * * * * "Good day, doctor. My time is rather limited this morning," said Ruth's father nervously; "was it of Ruth you wished to speak to me?" "Yes," said the doctor; "she seems to feel so badly about letting the children go, that it quite touched my feelings, and I thought of allowing her something for awhile, towards their support." "Very generous of you," said Mr. Ellet, infinitely relieved; "very." "Yes," continued the doctor, "I heard yesterday that Deacon Gray and Mrs. Rice, two very influential church members, were talking hard of you and me about this matter; yes, as you remarked, Mr. Ellet, I _am_ generous, and I am _willing_ to give Ruth a small sum, for an unspecified time, provided you will give her the same amount." "_Me?_" said Mr. Ellet; "_me?_--I am a poor man, doctor; shouldn't be surprised any day, if I had to mortgage the house I live in: you wouldn't have me die in the almshouse, would you?" "No; and I suppose you wouldn't be willing that Ruth should?" said the doctor, who could take her part when it suited him to carry a point. "Money is tight, money is tight," said old Mr. Ellet, frowning; "when a man marries his children, they ought to be considered off his hands. I don't know why I should be called upon. Ruth went out of my family, and went into yours, and there she was when her trouble came. Money is tight, though, of course, _you_ don't feel it, doctor, living here on your income with your hands folded." "Yes, yes," retorted the doctor, getting vexed in his turn; "that all sounds very well; but the question is, what _is_ my 'income'? Beside, when a man has earned his money by riding six miles of a cold night, to pull a tooth for twenty-five cents, he don't feel like throwing it away on other folks' children." "Are not those children as much your grand-children as they are mine?" said Mr. Ellet, sharply, as he peered over his spectacles.