“I have called to see your daughter Flora,” returned the young man, calmly.

“Then, I wish you to understand that your call is not agreeable,” said the father of the young lady, with great rudeness of manner.

“Not agreeable to whom?” asked Watson, manifesting no excitement.

“Not agreeable to me,” replied Mr. Johnson.  “Nor agreeable to any one in this house.”

“Do you speak for your daughter?” inquired the young man.

“I have a right to speak for her, if any one has,” was the evasive answer.

Watson bowed respectfully, and, without a word more, retired from the house.

The calm dignity with which he had received the rough treatment of Mr. Johnson, rebuked the latter, and added a feeling of shame to his other causes of mental disquietude.

On the next day Flora received a letter from Watson, in part in these words—­

“I called, last evening, but was not so fortunate as to see you.  Your father met me in the parlor, and on learning that my visit was to you, desired me not to come again.  This circumstance makes it imperative on me to declare what might have been sometime longer delayed—­my sincere regard for you.  If you feel towards me as your father does, then I have not a word more to say; but I do not believe this, and, therefore, I cannot let his disapproval, in a matter so intimately concerning my happiness, and it may be yours, influence me to the formation of a hasty decision.  I deeply regret your father’s state of feeling.  His full approval of my suit, next to yours, I feel to be in every way desirable.

“But, why need I multiply words?  Again, I declare that I feel for you a sincere affection.  If you can return this, say so with as little delay as possible; and if you cannot, be equally frank with me.”

Watson did not err in his belief that Flora reciprocated his tender sentiments; nor was he kept long in suspense.  She made an early reply, avowing her own attachment, but urging him; for her sake, to do all in his power to overcome her father’s prejudices.  But this was no easy task.  In the end, however, Mr. Johnson, who saw, too plainly, that opposition on his part would be of no avail, yielded a kind of forced consent that the plodding, behind-the-age young merchant, should lead Flora to the altar.  That his daughter should be content with such a man, was to him a source of deep mortification.  His own expectations in regard to her had been of a far higher character.

“He’ll never set the world on fire;” “A man of no enterprise;” “A dull plodder;” with similar allusions to his son-in-law, were overheard by Mr. Johnson on the night of the wedding party, and added no little to the ill-concealed chagrin from which he suffered.  They were made by individuals who belonged to the new school of business men, of whom Mortimer was a representative.  He, too, was present.  His disappointment in not obtaining