“Is it not a droll life Sir William leads,” cried Miss Jarvis, looking at John Moseley, “riding about all summer from one watering-place to another, and letting his house year after year in the manner he does?”

“Sir William,” said Dr. Ives, gravely, “is devoted to his laughter’s wishes; and since his accession to his title, has come into possession of another residence in an adjoining county, which, I believe, he retains in his own hands.”

“Are you acquainted with Miss Harris?” continued the lady, addressing herself to Clara; though, without waiting for an answer, she added, “She is a great belle—­all the gentlemen are dying for her.”

“Or her fortune,” said her sister, with a pretty toss of the head; “for my part, I never could see anything so captivating in her, although so much is said about her at Bath and Brighton.”

“You know her then,” mildly observed Clara.

“Why, I cannot say—­we are exactly acquainted,” the young lady hesitatingly answered, coloring violently.

“What do you mean by exactly acquainted, Sally?” put in the father with a laugh; “did you ever speak to or were you ever in a room with her, in your life, unless it might be at a concert or a ball?”

The mortification of Miss Sarah was too evident for concealment, and it happily was relieved by a summons to dinner.

“Never, my dear child,” said Mrs. Wilson to Emily, the aunt being fond of introducing a moral from the occasional incidents of every-day life, “never subject yourself to a similar mortification, by commenting on the characters of those you don’t know:  ignorance makes you liable to great errors; and if they should happen to be above you in life, it will only excite their contempt, should it reach their ears, while those to whom your remarks are made will think it envy.”

“Truth is sometimes blundered on,” whispered John, who held his sister’s arm, waiting for his aunt to precede them to the dining-room.

The merchant paid too great a compliment to the rector’s dinner to think of renewing the disagreeable conversation, and as John Moseley and the young clergyman were seated next the two ladies, they soon forgot what, among themselves, they would call their father’s rudeness, in receiving the attentions of a couple of remarkably agreeable young men.

“Pray, Mr. Francis, when do you preach for us?” asked Mr. Haughton; “I’m very anxious to hear you hold forth from the pulpit, where I have so often heard your father with pleasure:  I doubt not you will prove orthodox, or you will be the only man, I believe, in the congregation, the rector has left in ignorance of the theory of our religion, at least.”

The doctor bowed to the compliment, as he replied to the question for his son, that on the next Sunday they were to have the pleasure of hearing Frank, who had promised to assist him on that day.

“Any prospects of a living soon?” continued Mr. Haughton, helping himself bountifully to a piece of plum pudding as he spoke.  John Moseley laughed aloud, and Clara blushed to the eyes, while the doctor, turning to Sir Edward, observed with an air of interest, “Sir Edward, the living of Bolton is vacant, and I should like exceedingly to obtain it for my son.  The advowson belongs to the Earl, who will dispose of it only to great interest, I am afraid.”