"Yes, we are quite unpretending people," Angeline repeated. "What we have got is our own. We are getting old now, and if we die owing nobody a shilling we shall die in peace." And her sweet face lighted up with a smile, the true reflex of that goodness her heart was so full of. "It's so warm--I'm about melted," rejoined Mrs. Chapman, not appearing to notice what Angeline had said. "And this is my new bonnet, you see. Bonnets cost so much money now. People are getting so fashionable, and to be anybody you must keep up appearances." She held her bonnet up admiringly. "And my dear, good husband there--he's such a good husband--says I'm a very expensive wife. Always buys me what I want, though." Here she raised her waxy, fat hand, and dropped a bow of approval to the little husband, who was quietly surveying the scene from Hanz's big chair. "My husband is so intellectual, and does so much for other people. He's always doing for other people. But he's a treasure to me, for all that--" "My dear, my dear," interrupted Chapman; "what a kind way you have of paying compliments. Mrs. Toodleburg will not understand you, my dear. What more than any one else have I done for other people?" "You have been a perfect Christian, my dear, so you have," resumed Mrs. Chapman, giving her head a toss and pressing the fore-finger of her right hand on the arm of the chair. "Why, Mrs. Toodlebug--pardon me; I never did pronounce names correct." She turned condescendingly to Angeline. "You must know that my dear husband created a whole town once. Then he built a great and flourishing church, founded on advanced moral ideas. And he intended to have sold it for the good of others, and would have sold it, but for an unforeseen circumstance." "A very unforeseen circumstance, my dear," rejoined Chapman, shaking his head admonishingly. "You see, I have got one of the very best wives in the world. She has a philosophy of her own, and we agree in everything." "Shust like me and mine vife," said Hanz. "We agrees in everything. Lived dese forty nor more years togeder, mitout a quarrel." Hanz had been sitting where a pale shadow of the dim light played over his broad, kindly face, and, with his long, white hair curling down his neck, gave a clearer outline to the picture.