"I don't know about that, aunt. I think, as you said just now, that
all this is mutual."

"I am sorry you cannot or will not understand me, Maggy," replied
Aunt Hannah.

"I am sorry too, aunt; but I certainly do not. However, don't, pray,
give yourself any serious concern about James and me. I assure you
that we are getting along exceedingly well; and why this should not
continue is more than I can make out."

"Well, dear, I trust that it may. There is no good reason why it
should not. You both have virtues enough to counterbalance all
defects of character."

On the evening of that very day, as the young couple sat at the
tea-table, James Canning said, as his wife felt, rather unkindly, at
the same time that there was a slight contraction of his brow--

"You seem to be very much afraid of your sugar, Maggy. I never get a
cup of tea or coffee sweet enough for my taste."

"You must have a sweet palate. I am sure it is like syrup, for I put
in several large lumps of sugar," replied Margaret, speaking in a
slightly offended tone.

"Taste it, will you?" said Canning, pushing his cup across the table
with an impatient air.

Margaret sipped a little from the spoon, and then, with an