"Yes, dear," replied Tom, meekly.
"Well!" said Elsie; "you might show a little spirit at least."
"I thought I was to agree with you!"
"There is nothing I hate so much; if you don't contradict me, I shall die certainly."
"Then, since you want the truth, I must say I think you are a little hard on men in general."
"And you in particular, perhaps?"
"Sometimes you are."
"Indeed!" said she, tossing her curls. "Very well, Mr. Fuller, if you have such dreadful opinions as that, you had better have nothing more to do with me; I'll go away."
"Oh, don't; I didn't mean it," cried Tom, in a fright.
Elsie laughed at his penitence and teased him more unmercifully than ever, but Tom could bear it now with undisturbed equanimity. She had given him happiness, lifted his soul into such a flood of light as he had never thought to reach in this world, and his state of rapturous content utterly defied description.