premising that the door of the room was so open as to admit of a
conversation between our reverend Adam and his valued Eve.

"It's all your own fault, archdeacon," said the latter. "I told you
from the beginning how it would end, and papa has no one to thank but
you."

"Good gracious, my dear," said the doctor, appearing at the door of
his dressing-room, with his face and head enveloped in the rough towel
which he was violently using; "how can you say so? I am doing my very
best."

"I wish you had never done so much," said the lady, interrupting him.
"If you'd just have let John Bold come and go there, as he and papa
liked, he and Eleanor would have been married by this time, and we
should not have heard one word about all this affair."

"But, my dear--"

"Oh, it's all very well, archdeacon; and of course you're right; I
don't for a moment think you'll ever admit that you could be wrong;
but the fact is, you've brought this young man down upon papa by
huffing him as you have done."

"But, my love--"

"And all because you didn't like John Bold for a brother-in-law.
How is she ever to do better? Papa hasn't got a shilling; and though
Eleanor is well enough, she has not at all a taking style of beauty.
I'm sure I don't know how she's to do better than marry John Bold; or