“Fall in love with Elsie,” suggested Herbert, who felt a little fearful of a lachrymose scene in which he might be called upon to play actor.
“Certainement!” laughed Lizzette. “Eet ees ze match made in heaven.”
“Occasional sulphurous fumes about it when I scold, eh, Herbert?” cried Elsie.
“Oh, just enough as yet to light the flame of a ready wit. Whether there’ll ever be any greater combustion remains to be seen.”
“Well, I couldn’t be any happier over it if I stood in Herbert’s place,” ejaculated Antoine, which grave announcement, in view of his twelve years of maturity, was met with marked hilarity by the little circle. “And I’m sure,” added Antoine, in no way abashed, “if Herbert is never blown up until Elsie lights the fuse he’ll walk the earth a good while; for I don’t believe she knows how to scold.”
“Antoine, my lad, six months of seclusion have made you singularly trustful. Elsie has scolded me ever since I knew her, and I’ve grown so used to it in the last few weeks that I regard it in the light of a tonic—like quinine or any other excellent bitter.”
“Antoine,” said Elsie in a stage whisper, “have you noticed how improved in health and appearance our mutual friend Mr. Lynn seems to be? It is all the result of the exercise induced by trying to ward off some home truths I’ve been thrusting at him.”
“Ze fumes of sulphur!” cried Lizzette. “I protest zey rise no higher. I fear ze combustion.”
“They are a somewhat singular pair of lovers,” interposed Margaret. “It is a rare thing when they are not sparring, but as they seem to enjoy it and Herbert has not yet asked for a body-guard, I seldom interpose an objection.”
“Which, in view of the young man’s unprotected situation, is very considerate of you,” said Elsie with a defiant toss of her head. “It is my opinion, however, that there are more entertaining themes than the peculiarities of a couple of commonplace individuals. Mr. Lynn, will you please give us a lecture on good manners?”