"What say you, then," said the lady, "to Miss Williams, of
Pontyglasrhydyrallt, the descendant of the ancient family of----?"

"I don't like her," said Squire Headlong; "and as to her ancient
family, that is a matter of no consequence. I have antiquity enough
for two. They are all moderns, people of yesterday, in comparison with
us. What signify six or seven centuries, which are the most they can
make up?"

"Why, to be sure," said the aunt, "on that view of the question,
it is no consequence. What think you, then, of Miss Owen, of
Nidd-y-Gygfraen? She will have six thousand a year."

"I would not have her," said Squire Headlong, "if she had fifty. I'll
think of somebody presently. I should like to be married on the same
day with Caprioletta."

"Caprioletta!" said Miss Brindle-mew; "without my being consulted."

"Consulted!" said the squire: "I was commissioned to tell you, but
somehow or other I let it slip. However, she is going to be married to
my friend Mr Foster, the philosopher."

"Oh!" said the maiden aunt, "that a daughter of our ancient
family should marry a philosopher! It is enough to make the bones of
all the Ap-Rhaiaders turn in their graves!"

"I happen to be more enlightened," said Squire Headlong, "than
any of my ancestors were. Besides, it is Caprioletta's affair, not