"I am sure," said Mary, "Charles is most attentive whenever there is occasion, and always has his eyes about him to do a service; only he's a bad hand at small-talk."
"All will come in time, my dear," said his mother; "a good son makes a good husband."
"And a very loving papa," said Mr. Malcolm.
"Oh, spare me, sir," said poor Charles; "how have I deserved this?"
"Well," proceeded Mr. Malcolm, "and young ladies ought to marry betimes too."
"Come, Mary, your turn is coming," cried Charles; and taking his sister's hand, he threw up the sash, and escaped with her into the garden.
They crossed the lawn, and took refuge in a shrubbery. "How strange it is!" said Mary, as they strolled along the winding walk; "we used to like Mr. Malcolm so, as children; but now—I like him still, but he is not the same."
"We are older," said her brother; "different things take us now."
"He used to be so kind," continued she; "when he was coming, the day was looked out for; and mamma said, 'Take care you be good when Mr. Malcolm comes.' And he was sure to bring a twelfth-cake, or a Noah's ark, or something of the sort. And then he romped with us, and let us make fun of him."
"Indeed it isn't he that is changed," said Charles, "but we; we are in the time of life to change; we have changed already, and shall change still."