"Shirley's a fine plantation. The water is good, the air superb; there
are excellent gardens and first-rate oyster beds. The house is
old-fashioned, but it's comfortable, and a little money will make it
more so. What's the matter with them?"

"The girls are young, Percival," explained the mother, putting in a
plea for her rebels. "They are used to society and admiration. They
don't take interest in gardens and oyster beds yet; they like variety
and excitement. The country is very dull."

"Not at all dull," contradicted the general. "You talk as if I were
requiring you all to Selkirk on a ten acre island, instead of going to
one of the pleasantest and most populous counties in the oldest state
in the Union. Mr. Byrd, the former owner of Shirley, told me that the
neighborhood was very thickly settled and sociable. I counted five
gentlemen's houses in sight myself. Southerners, as a rule, are great
visitors, and if the girls are lonely it will be their own fault.
They'll have as much boating and dancing and tom-foolery as is good for
them."

"Are there any young men?" demanded Mrs. Smith, who recognized the
necessity of an infusion of the stronger element to impart to social
joys body and flavor.

"Yes, I guess so," replied her husband indifferently, masculinity from
over-association having palled on him; "there's always men about
everywhere, except back in the home villages in Maine--they're scarce
enough _there_, the Lord knows! I saw a good many about in the little
village near Shirley--Wintergreen, they call it. One young fellow
attracted my attention particularly; he was sitting on a tobacco