“Max and I have been to the Greek islands,” he said, “and Sunna, as soon as I am grown up, and am quite well, I shall ask thee to marry me, and then we will go to one of the loveliest of them and live there. Max thinks that would be just right.”
“Thou little darling,” answered Sunna, “when thou art a man, if thou ask me to marry thee, I shall say ‘yes!’”
“Of course thou wilt. Sunna loves Eric?”
“I do, indeed, Eric! I think we should be very happy. We should never quarrel or be cross with each other.”
“Oh! I would not like that! If we did not quarrel, there would be no making-up. I remember papa and mamma making-up their little tiffs, and they seemed to be very happy about it––and to love each other ever so much better for the tiff and the make-up. I think we must have little quarrels, Sunna; and then, long, long, happy makings-up.”
“Very well, Eric; only, thou must make the quarrel. With thee I could not quarrel.”
“I should begin it in this way: ‘Sunna, I do not approve of thy dancing with––say––Ken McLeod.’ Then thou wilt say: ‘I shall dance with 151 whom I like, Eric’; and I will reply: ‘thou art my wife and I will not allow thee to dance with McLeod’; and then thou wilt be naughty and saucy and proud, and I shall have to be angry and masterful; and as thou art going out of the room in a terrible temper, I shall say, ‘Sunna!’ in a sweet voice, and look at thee, and thou wilt look at me, with those heavenly eyes, and then I shall open my arms and thou wilt fly to my embrace, and the making-up will begin.”
“Well, then, that will be delightful, Eric, but thou must not accuse me of anything so bad as dancing with Mr. McLeod.”
“Would that be bad to thee?”
“Very bad, indeed! I fear I would never try to have a ‘make-up’ with any one who thought I would dance with him.”