"Poor old Selby! I did not hear of that. He is my uncle, you know, or at least he is married to my aunt. And Judy--Mrs. Bunce, I mean--is there just now, with Betsey, to show her the gaieties of the city. Nice house to see the gaieties from. They will consist of a musicale at Counter Tenor's, the dry-goods man, and one or two select performances of the Classical Quartette Club. Betsey's mind won't be unsettled by the dissipation, I guess. She won't leave town thoroughly dissatisfied with country life. Then again, what a pretty specimen of musical culture poor Betsey must be for Selby to lead around. I can imagine his being silently thankful for the sprain as an excuse to stay at home. Just come in the nick of time. However, as my mother was saying to me, though somehow it seems to have slipped out of my mind, we must do what we can for Betsey. If she is a rumpty-tumpty little thing, with her hair always lying the wrong way, she can't help it, and Uncle Bunce is not half bad--for a parson. I have it! I shall go in with you now, if you don't mind, find them all at breakfast, like an intimate and affectionate nephew--it will save more valuable time in the afternoon--and offer to take Betsey to the Rink to-day at three or four o'clock--that is, if you will promise to be there. But let me see! Have I time? Ah, yes! Twenty minutes to spare before I am due at Hammerstone's."
"Hammerstone's? Professor Hammerstone's? Is it a breakfast? Do you attend scientific breakfasts?"
"No. But I study the sciences, though perhaps you would not think it. You see we have so much to do with mineral lands, mines, metals, and that sort of thing, that the governor thinks it is worth while for me to try and find out what it all means. Those sharks, the experts, impose on you so abominably if you do not know something of what they are talking about. So I go to Hammerstone for an hour three mornings in the week, if I get up in time; and really it is more interesting than you would suppose. It is settled, then, that you will be on the Rink this afternoon?"
"I scarcely think it. Mr. Considine is coming to drive us out this afternoon."
"Considine! Phew--But gooseberries are not in season at this time of year! He! he!"
"I do not understand. I said we were going for a sleigh ride."
"With Considine? Will it not be rather cold work sitting with your back to the horses while the old chap makes--conversation--to the Miss Stanleys?"
"Aunt Penelope is afraid to venture out these cold days."
"Just what I said about wholesome summer fruit. That old Considine must be a sad bore, running out and in so much to one's house--like a tame cat."
"Mr. Considine is very nice. I like him. He is so good-natured, and he never says a word against people in their absence."