"His father does. He's a very interesting man. He has the best taste in
certain things--he knows more about etchings, I suppose, than any one
else in Boston."

"Is it possible! And does he live at Ponkwasset Falls? It's in Rhode
Island, isn't it?"

"New Hampshire. Yes; the whole family live there."

"The whole family? Are there many of them? I'd fancied, somehow, that Mr.
Mavering was the only----Do tell me about them, Etta," said Mrs. Pasmer,
leaning back in her chair, and fanning herself with an effect of
impartial interest, to which the dim light of the room lent itself.

"He's the only son. But there are daughters, of course--very cultivated
girls."

"And is he--is the elder Mr. Mavering a--I don't know what made me think
so--a widower?"

"Well, no--not exactly."

"Not exactly! He's not a grass-widower, I hope?"

"No, indeed. But his wife's a helpless invalid, and always has been. He's
perfectly devoted to her; and he hurried home yesterday, though he wanted
very much to stay for Commencement. He's never away from her longer than
he can help. She's bedridden; and you can see from the moment you enter
it that it's a man's house. Daughters can't change that, you know."