“Poor little girl;” said papa kissing her. “Your troubles are beginning early in life.”
“You think like the old lady in the couplet—
‘Wires and briars, needles and pins,
When you are married your trouble begins.’”
and Fan laughed with a trifle of the old archness.
“Not exactly. Your mamma and I have been very happy.” Still there was a perplexed expression on papa’s face as if he could not quite explain the puzzle.
“But then no one ever could be as good or as splendid or as lovely as you!”
“Any more adjectives, Fanny!” and he smiled.
“Yes, a host of them, but I am generous and spare your blushes. Mamma—” in a sort of absent, thoughtful way, “there is one man who, I think, would make a royal husband.”
“Are you quite sure you understand the requisite qualities?”