What Fred and Esther said to each other during the first few minutes after their meeting, was of a nature which never shows to full advantage in print; besides, it was in the nature of things that they should say very little. In spite of the experience accumulated during a hundred or more of just such meetings, it seemed necessary that a few minutes should be consumed by Fred in assuring himself that it was really Esther who sat in the rocking-chair in front of him; and the same time was used by the lady in determining that the handsome, intelligent face in front of her was that of the only lover she had ever accepted. Gradually, however, the sentences spoken by the couple became longer and more frequent; their subjects were ordinary enough; being the mutual acquaintances they had met during the day; the additions which had been made to the embroidery on the pair of slippers which Esther, after the manner of most other betrothed maidens in America, had begun to make for her lover; the quality of the singing in church on the preceding Sunday; the latest news from Captain Hall’s expedition to the North Pole; the character of Shakespeare’s Portia; and yet one would have supposed, from the countenances of both of these young people, that in each of these topics there was some underlying motive of the most delightful import; while their remarks seemed to indicate that there was but one side to either of the subjects discussed, and that both Fred and Esther saw it with the extreme clearness of earthly comprehension. Then, in a lull in the conversation, Fred asked, with a courtesy and minuteness inherited from aristocratic parents, about Mr. and Mrs. Wedgewell, and elicited the information that Esther’s father was composing a second sermon on intemperance. “Your father undoubtedly is himself the best judge of the needs of his congregation,” said Fred, dropping his eyes a little and playing with a bit of paper; “but I can’t help feeling that he is wasting his fine talents in preaching on intemperance. If his sermons could be heard and applied by the proper persons, they might do a great deal of good; but what drunkard goes to church? Only moderate drinkers and people who don’t drink at all ever hear your father’s sermons, and none of them have any need for such instructions.” Esther brushed an imaginary thread or mote from her dress, and said, with some embarrassment, “Father believes that the moderate drinkers are those who most need to be warned.” “Why, Ettie!” exclaimed Fred, “how can he believe that? He must know that I occasionally--that is, he knows that I am not one of the Sons of Temperance; yet he gave me you”--here conversation ceased a moment as Fred stepped toward Esther, conveying unto that lady an affectionate testimonial whose exact nature will be understood--“and he certainly would not have done so had he supposed I was in any danger of being injured by liquor.”