"It seems to me," said Tom, eagerly, "that women claim a great many privileges, and very odd ones, sometimes."
"Isn't it our privilege!" demanded Elsie, belligerently. "Do you mean to deny that we haven't a right to be just as selfish and whimsical as we please, and that it's your duty to submit?"
"If you'll let me kiss your hand I'll acknowledge anything you desire," said artful Tom.
"Then I won't, and if you value your peace in the slightest degree, I should advise you to behave more decorously."
Elsie drew herself up, and looked as prim as a little Quakeress, who had never indulged a worldly thought in all her days.
"I wish you would come into the music-room and sing to me," said Tom, struck with a bright idea.
"Nonsense, you don't care about music?"
"Indeed I do; your voice is like an angel's."
"You couldn't tell whether I was singing something from Trovatore or Yankee Doodle?" replied Elsie.
Tom rubbed his forehead again, fairly bewildered; but whether he knew anything about music as a science or not, he listened to Elsie's singing with his heart, and very sweet music it was.