"Of course he is. The Prince of Wales once shook hands with him, and he wouldn't shake hands with any one but a gentleman. Do you wish you were a man, Phœbe?"
"No."
"I do!" said Fanny, with a decided nod of her head, the hair of which was by this time elaborately done up in curl-papers. Phœbe had also completed her preparations for bed. "And now, Phœbe, let us have a chat." She made this proposition with a feminine obliviousness of having spoken a single word since she had locked the bedroom door.
"What about, Fanny?"
"Open your mouth and shut your eyes, and see what God will send you," said Fanny.
"Nonsense, Fanny."
"Very well—nonsense. Then we won't have a chat. Only"—and Fanny pursed up her lips and shook her paper-covered little head wisely.
"Only what?"
"That you'll be sorry for it—that's all."
"What a tease you are! There!" Phœbe opened her mouth and shut her eyes.