“I hope you won't be such a fool as to encourage him in his application.”
“If he were in actual distress, my dear,” said Mr. Stanton, “I should feel that I ought to do something.”
“Then you'd allow yourself to be imposed upon, that's all I've got to say. There is no need of his being in distress. He is a stout boy, and capable of earning his own living.”
“He might get sick,” suggested Mr. Stanton, who was not so hard-hearted as his wife.
“Then let him go to the hospital. It's provided for such cases.”
“Is Herbert good-looking?” asked Maria, with interest.
“He won't get a prize for his beauty,” said Tom, disparagingly.
“Is he homely?”
“No,” said Tom, reluctantly. “I suppose he'll pass; but he's countrified. He hasn't got any style,” and he glanced complacently at his own reflection in a mirror, for Tom was vain of his personal appearance, though by no means as good-looking as Herbert. In fact, he was compelled secretly to confess this to himself, and for this reason was more than ever disposed to view his cousin with prejudice.
“I should like to see Herbert,” said Maria, who had her share of female curiosity, and thought it would be pleasant to have a cousin to escort her round.