"Is it all settled, Harry?" said Fanny, stopping with her brother, and
hanging over his chair. She was a pretty, gay-spirited girl, with bright
eyes and dark brown hair, which fell in two curls behind her ears.

"He has said nothing to unsettle it."

"I know it makes him very unhappy."

"No, Fanny, not very unhappy. He would rather that I should go into the
church, but that is about all."

"I think you are quite right."

"And Mary thinks I am quite wrong."

"Mary thinks so, of course. So should I, too, perhaps, if I were engaged
to a clergyman. That's the old story of the fox who had lost his tail."

"And your tail isn't gone yet?"

"No, my tail isn't gone yet. Mary thinks that no life is like a
clergyman's life. But, Harry, though mamma hasn't said so, I'm sure she
thinks you are right. She won't say so as long as it may seem to
interfere with anything papa may choose to say; but I'm sure she's glad
in her heart."

"And I am glad in my heart, Fanny. And as I'm the person most concerned
I suppose that's the most material thing." Then they followed their
father into the drawing room.