“Charlie, I won’t have you two quarrelling,” said Graeme, laughing. “Rose is right. There is just a grain or two of truth in what they have been saying,” she added, turning to Mr Snow. “Mr Green is a real live Yankee, with many valuable and excellent qualities. A little hard perhaps, a little worldly. But you should hear him speak of his mother. You would sympathise with him then, Charlie. He told me all about his mother, one evening that I met him at Grove House, I think. He told me about the old homestead, and his father’s saw-mill, and the log school-house; and his manner of speaking quite raised him, in my opinion. Arthur is wrong in saying he cares for nothing but money.”
“But, who is he?” asked Mr Snow, with the air of one much interested; His question was this time addressed to Fanny, who had seated herself on the window seat close by her husband, and she replied eagerly,—
“Oh, he is a rich merchant—ever so rich. He is going to give up business, and travel in Europe.”
“For the improvement of his mind,” said Arthur.
“I don’t know what he goes for, but he is very rich, and may do what he likes. He has built the handsomest house in the State, Miss Smith tells me. Oh! he is ever so rich, and he is a bachelor.”
“I want to know?” said Mr Snow, accepting Fanny’s triumphant climax, as she gave it, with great gravity.
“He is a great friend of mine, and a great admirer of Miss Elliott,” said Mrs Grove, with her lips intending that her face should say much more.
“Do tell?” said Mr Snow.
“A singular and eccentric person you see he must be,” said Will.
“A paradoxical specimen of a live Yankee. Don’t frown, Miss Rose. Mrs Grove’s statement proves my assertion,” said Charlie.