"Well, honey-girlie," said Mrs. Morris, as she and Isabel reentered their cottage, "wasn't it sweet of them all, that 'laying on of hands,' as Arthur called it?"
"Yes," replied the Southern girl, starting up the cramped old New England stairway to her room. "It was child's play, but it was very sweet of them, and especially of the General."
The mother detained her fondly. "And still, my child, you're not satisfied?"
"Ah, mother, are you blind, stone blind, or do you only hope I am?"
"My dearie!"
"Why, mother, excepting Leonard, we haven't had one word of true consent from one of them."
"Oh, now, Isabel! They'll all be glad enough by and by."
"Yes," said the daughter, from the landing above, "I've no doubt of that."
She passed into her room, closed the door, and standing in the middle of the floor, with her temples in her palms, said, "O merciful God! Oh, Leonard Byington, if only that second hand of yours had hung back!"