"So they are at home again," she exclaimed; "and now we'll hear all about the wedding that is to be. I've been just wearying for the parteeculars, and there never were such bad letter-writers as those girls. Anyhow there'll be a handsome bridegroom."
"Ah!" said John Mortimer, "all the ladies admire Val. He's quite a woman's man."
"Well, and St. George is a man's man, then," retorted Miss Christie; "ye all admire him, I am sure."
"And what are you, papa, dearest?" asked Janie, who had hold of his hand.
"I'm my own man, my little queen-regnant," answered her father with a somewhat exultant laugh.
"Ay, Mr. Mortimer, I'm just surprised at ye," quoth Miss Christie, shaking her head over these vainglorious words.
"I think father's the most beautifullest man of all," said little Janie, with a sort of jealous feeling as if somehow he had been disparaged, though she did not exactly know how. "And the goodest, too," she presently added, as if not satisfied with her first tribute to him.
Valentine, who was seldom out of countenance on any occasion, received the congratulations of all the party with a certain rather becoming pride and complacency. He seemed, however, to be taking things very easily? but he presently became rather silent, and John, who felt keenly that Brandon was not so indifferent to the bride-elect as he wished to be, turned the conversation as soon as he could to other matters. There was some talk about Valentine's land which had been bought for him in New Zealand, after which Brandon said suddenly,—
"John, when this fellow is gone, or perhaps before, I mean to have something to do—some regular work—and I think of taking to literature in good earnest."
"All right," answered John, "and as you evidently intend me to question you, I will ask first whether you, Giles Brandon, mean to write on some subject that you understand, or on one that you know nothing about?"