"No, I feel sure she will not. She respects you more than any one, and

she would not put you off with fun as she does me. Of course I could

not have told any one else, or asked any one else to speak to her, but

you. There is no one else who could be such a friend to both of us."

Fred paused a moment, and then said, rather complainingly, "And she

ought to acknowledge that I have worked in order to pass. She ought to

believe that I would exert myself for her sake."

There was a moment's silence before Mr. Farebrother laid down his work,

and putting out his hand to Fred said--

"Very well, my boy. I will do what you wish."

That very day Mr. Farebrother went to Lowick parsonage on the nag which

he had just set up. "Decidedly I am an old stalk," he thought, "the

young growths are pushing me aside."

He found Mary in the garden gathering roses and sprinkling the petals

on a sheet. The sun was low, and tall trees sent their shadows across

the grassy walks where Mary was moving without bonnet or parasol. She

did not observe Mr. Farebrother's approach along the grass, and had

just stooped down to lecture a small black-and-tan terrier, which would

persist in walking on the sheet and smelling at the rose-leaves as Mary

sprinkled them. She took his fore-paws in one hand, and lifted up the

forefinger of the other, while the dog wrinkled his brows and looked

embarrassed. "Fly, Fly, I am ashamed of you," Mary was saying in a

grave contralto. "This is not becoming in a sensible dog; anybody

would think you were a silly young gentleman."

"You are unmerciful to young gentlemen, Miss Garth," said the Vicar,

within two yards of her.

Mary started up and blushed. "It always answers to reason with Fly,"

she said, laughingly.

"But not with young gentlemen?"

"Oh, with some, I suppose; since some of them turn into excellent men."

"I am glad of that admission, because I want at this very moment to

interest you in a young gentleman."

"Not a silly one, I hope," said Mary, beginning to pluck the roses

again, and feeling her heart beat uncomfortably.

"No; though perhaps wisdom is not his strong point, but rather

affection and sincerity. However, wisdom lies more in those two

qualities than people are apt to imagine. I hope you know by those

marks what young gentleman I mean."

"Yes, I think I do," said Mary, bravely, her face getting more serious,

and her hands cold; "it must be Fred Vincy."




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