“Not his head, but his heart, my dear,” blandly corrected the Major, “and I repeat that it is a very commendable thing to do--why, where would you be to-day, madam, if I hadn't fallen in love with you?” Mrs. Lightfoot sniffed as she unwound her knitting. “I don't doubt that I should be quite as well off, Mr. Lightfoot,” she replied convincingly. “Ah, maybe so, maybe so,” admitted the Major, with a sigh; “but I'm very sure that I shouldn't be, my dear.” The old lady softened visibly, but she only remarked:-- “I'm glad that you have found it out, sir,” and clicked her needles. Dan, who had been wandering aimlessly about the room, threw himself into a chair beside his grandmother and caught at her ball of yarn. “It's Virginia, I suppose,” he suggested. The Major laughed until his spectacles clouded. “Virginia!” he gasped, wiping the glasses upon his white silk handkerchief. “Listen to the boy, Molly, he believes every last one of us--myself to boot, I reckon--to be in love with Miss Virginia.” “If he does, he believes as many men have done before him,” interposed Mrs. Lightfoot, with a homely philosophy. “Well, isn't it Virginia?” asked Dan. “I tell you frankly,” pursued the Major, in a confidential voice, “that if you want a rival with Virginia, you'll be apt to find a stout one in Jack Morson. He was back a week ago, and he's a fine fellow--a first-rate fellow. I declare, he came over here one evening and I couldn't begin a single quotation from Horace that he didn't know the end of it. On my word, he's not only a fine fellow, but a cultured gentleman. You may remember, sir, that I have always maintained that the two most refining influences upon the manners were to be found in the society of ladies and a knowledge of the Latin language.” Dan gave the yarn an impatient jerk. “Tell me, grandma,” he besought her. As was her custom, the old lady came quickly to the point and appeared to transfix the question with the end of her knitting-needle. “I really think that it is Betty, my child,” she answered calmly. “What does he mean by falling in love with Betty?” demanded Dan, while he rose to his feet, and the ball of yarn fell upon the floor. “Don't ask me what he means, sir,” protested the Major. “If a man in love has any meaning in him, it takes a man in love to find it out. Maybe you'll be better at it than I am; but I give it up--I give it up.” With a gloomy face Dan sat down again, and resting his arms on his knees, stared at the vase of golden-rod between the tall brass andirons. Cupid came in to light the lamps, and stopped to inquire if Mrs. Lightfoot would like a blaze to be started in the fireplace. “It's a little chilly, my dear,” remarked the Major, slapping his arm. “There's been a sharp change in the weather;” and Cupid removed the vase of golden-rod and laid an armful of sticks crosswise on the andirons.