When the more serious business of the dinner was over, Mr. Seymour toasted the bride to be, and with so much delicacy of manner and expertness of speech that we could not take our eyes off him for the surprise of it. What he said was attended with many happy blushes on the part of Miss Betty, and afterward by much hilarity on the part of the company, in which Uncle Job joined, and with such spirit, too, as I had never seen in him before. Surely, I thought, you are in great luck, Miss Betty, to get so fine a man for a husband. Then Uncle Job was toasted by Mr. Seymour, and this with such elaboration of compliment and prolixity of happy discourse that we thought he would never let go the opportunity to felicitate the company and Uncle Job on the event we were celebrating. This greatly increased the good feeling of all present, and for a time there was such a bedlam of voices and clinking of glasses that I tiptoed to the door lest some inkling of it should come to the ears of the sleeping village. When quiet had been secured, though this was not possible for a long time, Mr. Seymour turned to where I sat, with much solemnity of manner, as if amid all our joy some discordant note had been struck, saying: "Having drunk to the health and happiness of our guests of honor, I desire in the most kindly way to condole with our young friend and Knight of the Road, Mr. Gilbert Holmes." At this every one looked up in surprise, not knowing what he meant, and for a time all conversation ceased, but Mrs. Singleton, presently regaining her voice, cried out: "Pray, why should you condole with my young sweetheart, Mr. Seymour? What has he done, or what misfortune hangs over him? I am sure he looks as happy as any one here." "That is true, Mrs. Singleton; but the mercenary element in our nature never shows itself till we have had some experience of life. Gilbert is no exception to the rule, and so his dreams are still undisturbed. Give him time, Mrs. Singleton, give him time, and then you will see how his face will furrow with anxiety and the unhappiness that accompanies a discontented mind," Mr. Seymour answered, in his grave, stately way. "We don’t understand at all the drift of what you are saying, Mr. Seymour," Mrs. Singleton went on. "Surely we should all of us be unhappy if a cloud were to come between Gilbert and the sun, no matter how small it might be." "What is it, papa? Don’t you see you have put a stop to all the pleasantry by what you are saying?" Constance spoke up, and with some irritation of manner, too, I thought. "It is a serious matter, Doll, and one that calls for sympathy if not active aid, and in this I know all will agree," Mr. Seymour went on, stopping as if the better to engage attention. "What is it, Henry, if you are at all in earnest," Uncle Job now spoke up, "that can possibly threaten the happiness of one I love more than any one on earth, except—"