"My house shall always be open to Mrs. Spangler's relatives," said Mr. Spangler, with Christian pride.
"You are a good fellow, Spangler," Dr. Lavendar said; and listened, chuckling, to Mr. Spangler's awkward and correct expressions of bliss. For indeed he was very happy, and talked about Miss Ellen's virtues (which so eminently qualified her to become his wife), as fatuously as any lover could.
"Hi, you, Danny," said Dr. Lavendar, after half an hour of it, "stop growling."
"There's somebody at the door," said Augustus Spangler, and went into the entry to see who it was. He came back with a letter, which he read, standing by the table; then he sat down and looked white. Dr. Lavendar, joyously, was singing to himself:
"'Ten-cent Jimmy and his minions
Cannot down the Woolly Horse.'
"Spangler, we must drink to your very good health and prospects. Let's have Mary bring the glasses."
"I fear," said Mr. Spangler—he stopped, his voice unsteady. "I regret—"
"Hullo!" said Dr. Lavendar, looking at him over his spectacles; "what's wrong?"
"I'm extremely sorry to say," said poor Mr. Spangler, "that—it can't be."
"A good glass of wine," said Dr. Lavendar, "never hurt—"