“And how will his sister like that?” asked Ralph.

“She won’t like it at all.  She has told me she is going away.”

“I am sorry for that,” he said.  “That is too bad.”

“Not at all.  She could not do better.  A girl like that in a town such as Thorbury, with nobody to marry her but the rector, is as much out of place as a canary bird in a poultry yard.  I have advised her to visit her relatives in town, and go with them to Europe, where I hope she will marry a prince.  Good conscience!  Look at her!  Imagine that girl in a sweeping velvet robe with one great diamond blazing on her breast.”

Ralph turned quickly, and as his eyes fell upon Dora, as she entered the store, it struck him that no royal gowns could make her more beautiful than she was at that moment.

“Now, my dear,” said Miss Panney, “what did you come here for?  Do you want a saw or a pitchfork?”

“I came,” said Dora, with her most charming smile, “because I saw you two in here, and I wanted to speak to you.  It is a funny place for this sort of thing, but I do not see either of you very often, now, and I thought I would like to tell you, before you heard it from any one else, of my engagement.”

“To whom?” cried Miss Panney, in a voice that made the ox-chains rattle.

Dora looked around anxiously, but there was no one in the front part of the store.

“To Mr. Ames,” she replied.

“The rector!” exclaimed Ralph.

“Yes,” said Dora; “I want to write to Miriam about it, and do you know I have lost her address.”

“Dora Bannister,” interrupted Miss Panney, “it may be a little early to make bridal presents, but I want to give you this corkscrew.  It is a very good one, and I think that after a while you will have need of it.  Good morning.”

When the old lady had abruptly departed, the two young people laughed, and Ralph offered his congratulations.

“I do not know Mr. Ames very well,” he said, “but I have heard no end of good of him.  But this is very surprising.  It seems—­”

“Seems what?” asked Dora.

“Well, since you ask me,” Ralph answered, hesitating a little, “it seems odd, not, perhaps, that you should marry the rector, but that you should marry anybody.  You appear to me too young to marry.”

“Oh, indeed!” said Dora; “you think that?”

“I do not know that you understand me,” said Ralph, “but I mean that you are so full of youth—­and all that, and enjoy life so much, that it is a pity that you should not have more of youthful enjoyment before you begin any other kind.”

Dora laughed.

“Truly,” said she, “I never looked at the matter in that light.  Perhaps I ought to have done so.  You think me too young, and if you had had a chance, perhaps you would have warned me!  You are so kind and so considerate, but don’t you think you ought to speak to Mr. Ames about it?  He does not know you very well, but he has heard no end of good of you, and perhaps what you say might make him reflect.”