Before Fred bore away his household gods, he sought a private interview with his mother, eager to know what she thought of them; for immediately on his marriage he had taken his wife abroad, and this was the first time she and his child had come under her roof.
"I think you a lucky fellow, young man," she said, good-humoredly. "Hatty is coming into full sympathy with us, and has in her the makings of a very fine woman, as Mrs. Goodwin once said of her Sophie. I suppose you do not expect anything more from me than this?"
"Now, mother, this isn't fair," he remonstrated. "I never pretended that she was equal to you, or to the girls; but she has a great deal of character, and yet is very impressible. I can wind her round my finger like a piece of silk."
"She's much more likely to wind you round hers. She has a will of iron. But I do not object to that."
"Indeed you wouldn't if you could see her bear pain. Oh, you'll love her to distraction when you come to know her as well as I do. Poor little thing, how she did dread running the gauntlet of all you keen-eyed, cultivated women!"
"You ought to have spared her that. You know we never pick flaws in each other. Why, Fred, I expect, in time, to love Hatty just about as I love you. But you know my affections move slowly."
"I know I never saw anyone whose affections move with more rapidity," laughed Fred. "But I suppose a mother never finds a paragon worthy of her son."
"Oh, as to that, I consider Hatty quite your equal, if not your superior. In fact, her greatest fault is one she will outgrow."
"And what is that?"