"What a dear boy he is!" ejaculated Mrs. Ingham-Baker almost before
the door was closed. "So upright and honest and straightforward."

"Yes," answered Mrs. Harrington, with a sigh of anger.

"He will be a fine man," continued Mrs. Ingham-Baker. "I shall die
quite happy if my Agatha marries such a man as Henry will be."

Mrs. Harrington glanced at her voluminous friend rather critically.

"You do not look like dying yet," she said.

Mrs. Ingham-Baker put her head on one side and looked resigned.

"One never knows," she answered. "It is a great responsibility,
Marian, to have a daughter."

"I should imagine, from what I have seen of Agatha, that the child
is quite capable of taking care of herself."

"Yes," answered the fond mother, "she is intelligent. But a girl is
so helpless in the world, and when I am gone I should feel happier
if I knew that my child had a good husband, such as Fitz, to take
care of her."

Neither of these ladies being of the modern school of feminine
learning, the vague theology underlying this remark was allowed to
pass unnoticed.