"Now, Mr. Carleton," exclaimed Constance, jumping up "I am going to ask you to decide a quarrel between Fleda and me about a point of English "
"Hush, Constance!" said her mother "I want to speak to Mr.
Carleton. Mr. Carleton, how do you like it?"
"Like what, Mamma?" said Florence.
"A piece I gave Mr. Carleton to read. Mr. Carleton, tell me how you like it, Sir."
"But what is it, Mamma!"
"A piece of poetry in an old Excelsior 'The Spirit of the Fireside.' Mr. Carleton, wont you read it aloud, and let us all hear? but tell me, first, what you think of it."
"It has pleased me particularly, Mrs. Evelyn."
"Mr. Stackpole says he does not understand it, Sir."
"Fanciful," said Mr. Stackpole; "it's a little fanciful and
I can't quite make out what the fancy is."
"It has been the misfortune of many good things before, not to be prized, Mr. Stackpole," said the lady, funnily.