for the restriction. In other days Caroline and Louisa had a little
looked down on Harriet's alliance with a dumpy man--a brewer--and had
always kind Christian compassion for him if his name were mentioned.
They seemed now, by their silence, to have a happier estimate of Andrew's
qualities.

While the three sisters sat mingling their sorrows and alarms, their
young brother was making his way to the house. As he knocked at the door
he heard his name pronounced behind him, and had no difficulty in
recognizing the worthy brewer.

'What, Van, my boy! how are you? Quite a foreigner! By George, what a
hat!'

Mr. Andrew bounced back two or three steps to regard the dusky sombrero.

'How do you do, sir?' said Evan.

'Sir to you!' Mr. Andrew briskly replied. 'Don't they teach you to give
your fist in Portugal, eh? I'll "sir" you. Wait till I'm Sir Andrew,
and then "sir" away. You do speak English still, Van, eh? Quite jolly,
my boy?'

Mr. Andrew rubbed his hands to express that state in himself. Suddenly
he stopped, blinked queerly at Evan, grew pensive, and said, 'Bless my
soul! I forgot.'

The door opened, Mr. Andrew took Evan's arm, murmured a 'hush!' and trod
gently along the passage to his library.