you for—that you should find him a wife—let him put his head into a noose the day after his arrival?'
'Heaven forbid I should do anything of the kind! I know moreover that his mother doesn't want him to marry young. She thinks it's a mistake and that at that age a man never really chooses. He doesn't choose till he has lived awhile—till he has looked about and compared.'
'And what do you think yourself?'
'I should like to say I consider that love itself, however young, is a sufficient choice. But my being a bachelor at this time of day would contradict me too much.'
'Well then, you're too primitive. You ought to leave this place to-morrow.'
'So as not to see Archie tumble in?'
'You ought to fish him out now and take him with you.'
'Do you think he is in very far?' I inquired.
'If I were his mother I know what I should think. I can put myself in her place—I am not narrow—I know perfectly well how she must regard such a question.'
'And don't you know that in America that's not thought important—the way the mother regards it?'
Mrs. Pallant was silent a moment, as if I partly mystified and partly vexed her. 'Well, we are not in America; we happen to be here.'
'No; my poor sister is up to her neck in New York.'
'I am almost capable of writing to her to come out,' said Mrs. Pallant.
'You are warning me,' I exclaimed, 'but I hardly
