persuasiveness was one reason why he was always in debt. No one
doubted that he would be able to persuade Isabel, but he unfortunately
joined too merry a party one night, and, during a moonlight serenade
upon the lawn before the Amberson Mansion, was easily identified from
the windows as the person who stepped through the bass viol and had to
be assisted to a waiting carriage. One of Miss Amberson's brothers
was among the serenaders, and, when the party had dispersed, remained
propped against the front door in a state of helpless liveliness; the
Major going down in a dressing-gown and slippers to bring him in, and
scolding mildly, while imperfectly concealing strong impulses to
laughter. Miss Amberson also laughed at this brother, the next day,
but for the suitor it was a different matter: she refused to see him
when he called to apologize. "You seem to care a great deal about
bass viols!" he wrote her. "I promise never to break another." She
made no response to the note, unless it was an answer, two weeks
later, when her engagement was announced. She took the persistent
one, Wilbur Minafer, no breaker of bass viols or of hearts, no
serenader at all.

A few people, who always foresaw everything, claimed that they were
not surprised, because though Wilbur Minafer "might not be an Apollo,
as it were," he was "a steady young business man, and a good church-
goer," and Isabel Amberson was "pretty sensible--for such a showy
girl." But the engagement astounded the young people, and most of
their fathers and mothers, too; and as a topic it supplanted
literature at the next meeting of the "Women's Tennyson Club."

"Wilbur Minafer!" a member cried, her inflection seeming to imply that
Wilbur's crime was explained by his surname. "Wilbur Minafer! It's
the queerest thing I ever heard! To think of her taking Wilbur