I. THE FATHER, by William Dean Howells As soon as we heard the pleasant news-I suppose the news of an engagement ought always to be called pleasant-it was decided that I ought to speak first about it, and speak to the father. We had not been a great while in the neighborhood, and it would look less like a bid for the familiar acquaintance of people living on a larger scale than ourselves, and less of an opening for our own intimacy if they turned out to be not quite so desirable in other ways as they were in the worldly way. For the ladies of the respective families first to offer and receive congratulations would be very much more committing on both sides; at the same time, to avoid the appearance of stiffness, some one ought to speak, and speak promptly. The news had not come to us directly from our neighbors, but authoritatively from a friend of theirs, who was also a friend of ours, and we could not very well hold back. So, in the cool of the early evening, when I had quite finished rasping my lawn with the new mower, I left it at the end of the swath, which had brought me near the fence, and said across it, "Good-evening " My neighbor turned from making his man pour a pail of water on the earth round a freshly planted tree, and said, "Oh, good-evening How d'ye do? Glad to see you " and offered his hand over the low coping so cordially that I felt warranted in holding it a moment.