“That’s because I have no wife. Let a man live a bachelor, and ten to one he gets some nickname or other. On the other hand, let him marry two or three times, like Ned McBrain—beg your pardon, Nanny, for speaking disrespectfully of your papa—but let a fellow just get his third wife, and they tack ‘family’ to his appellation at once. He’s an excellent _family_ lawyer, or a capital _family_ physician, or a supremely pious—no, I don’t know that they’ve got so far as the parsons, for _they_ are all _family_ fellows.” “You have a spite against matrimony, uncle Tom.” “Well, if I have, it stops with me, as a _family_ complaint. _You_ are free from it, my dear; and I’m half inclined to think Jack will marry before he is a year older. But, here are the tardies at last.” Although the uncle made no allusion to the person his nephew was to marry, everybody but himself thought of Mary Monson at once. Anna turned pale as death; Sarah looked thoughtful, and even sad; and John became as red as scarlet. But the entrance of Michael Millington and Timms caused the conversation to turn on another subject, as a matter of course. “We expected you to dinner, gentlemen,” Dunscomb drily remarked, as he pushed the bottle to his guests. “Business before eating is my maxim, ’Squire Dunscomb,” Timms replied. “Mr. Millington and I have been very busy in the office, from the moment Dr. McBrain and his lady——” “Wife—say ‘wife,’ Timms, if you please. Or, ‘Mrs. McBrain,’ if you like that better.” “Well, sir, I used the word I did, out of compliment to the other ladies present. They love to be honoured and signalized in our language, when we speak of them, sir, I believe.” “Poh! poh! Timms; take my advice, and let all these small matters alone. It takes a life to master them, and one must begin from the cradle. When all is ended, they are scarce worth the trouble they give. Speak good, plain, direct, and manly English, I have always told you, and you’ll get along well enough; but make no attempts to be fine. ‘Dr. McBrain and _lady_,’ is next thing ‘to going through Hurlgate,’ or meeting a ‘lady friend.’ You’ll never get the right sort of a wife, until you drop all such absurdities.” “I’ll tell you how it is, ’Squire: so far as law goes, or even morals, and I don’t know but I may say general government politics, I look upon you as the best adviser I can consult. But, when it comes to matrimony, I can’t see how you should know any more about it than I do myself. I _do_ intend to get married one of these days, which is more, I fancy, than you ever had in view.” “No; my great concern has been to escape matrimony; but a man may get a very tolerable notion of the sex while manœuvring among them, with that intention. I am not certain that he who has had two or three handsomely managed escapes, doesn’t learn as much as he who has had two or three wives—I mean of useful information. What do you think of all this, Millington?”