Chapter 4 - Page 2

produced. The arrival and introduction
of the captain himself changed the discourse, which turned on the comforts
of their present residence.

"Pray, my lady," cried the captain, who had taken a chair familiarly by
the side of the baronet's wife, "why is the house called the deanery? I am
afraid I shall be taken for a son of the church, when I invite my friends
to visit my father at the deanery."

"But you may add, at the same time, sir, if you please," dryly remarked
Mr. Jarvis, "that it is occupied by an old man, who has been preaching and
lecturing all his life; and, like others of the trade, I believe, in
vain."

"You must except our good friend, the doctor here, at least, sir," said
Mrs. Wilson; who, observing that her sister shrank from a familiarity she
was unused to, took upon herself the office of replying to the captain's
question: "The father of the present Sir William Harris held that station
in the church, and although the house was his private property it took its
name from the circumstance, which has been continued ever since."

"Is it not a droll life Sir William leads," cried Miss Jarvis, looking at
John Moseley, "riding about all summer from one watering-place to another,
and letting his house year after year in the manner he does?"

"Sir William," said Dr. Ives, gravely, "is devoted to his laughter's
wishes; and since his accession to his title, has come into possession of
another residence in an adjoining county, which, I believe, he retains in
his own hands."

"Are you acquainted with Miss Harris?" continued the lady, addressing
herself to Clara; though, without waiting for an answer, she added, "She
is a great belle--all the gentlemen are dying for her."

"Or her fortune," said her sister, with a pretty toss of the head; "for my
part, I never could see anything so captivating in her, although so much
is said about her at Bath and Brighton."

"You know her then," mildly observed Clara.

"Why, I cannot say--we are exactly acquainted," the young lady
hesitatingly answered, coloring violently.

"What do you mean by exactly acquainted, Sally?" put in the father with a
laugh; "did you ever speak to or were you ever in a room with her, in your
life, unless it might be at a concert or a ball?"

The mortification of Miss Sarah was too evident for concealment, and it
happily was relieved by a summons to dinner.

"Never, my dear child," said Mrs. Wilson to Emily, the aunt being fond of
introducing a moral from the occasional incidents of every-day life,
"never