"Did I say so, aunt?" inquired Jessie, looking into her relative's
face.

"You said enough to make the inference clear, my child."

"Well, Aunt Phoebe, he was attentive--more so, by a great deal, than
I desired!"

"Than you desired!" There was unfeigned surprise in the voice of
Mrs. Loring. "What do you mean, Jessie?"

"The man's position is all well enough; but the man himself is not
altogether to my liking."

"You must have grown remarkably fastidious all at once. Why, girl!
there isn't a handsomer man to be found anywhere. He is a noble
looking fellow! Where are your eyes?"

"The man that a wife has to deal with, is the man of the spirit,
Aunt Phoebe--the real man. The handsome outside is nothing, if the
inner man is not beautiful!" Jessie spoke with a sudden glow of
feeling.

"Stuff and nonsense, child!" said Mrs. Loring, impatiently. "Stuff
and nonsense!" she repeated, seeing that her niece looked steadily
into her face. "What do you know of the man of the spirit, as you
call it? And, moreover, what possesses you to infer that Mr.
Dexter's inner man is not as beautiful as the outer?"

"The soul looks forth from the eyes, and manifests its quality in