"Oh, Fred, she never could!"
"Couldn't she? What! Our Fanny, our dear cousin, not be equal to such a scheme! Upon my word, she deserves—what she shall get when we go to her. Thinking seriously over the matter, Phœbe—and I never was more serious in my life than I am now, my own!—I have no doubt that she had everything already planned out in her pretty little head."
"Fred, we really must go."
"Not till—"
"Till what, Fred?"
He held her face between his hands, and put his lips to hers. Thus they pledged love and faith to each other, for weal or woe.
"Well, you people!" cried Fanny, as they entered. "We are not half ready for you; and here you come breaking in upon us so suddenly and quickly—just as Bob and I were talking secrets—weren't we, Bob? Well, I wonder at your impudence, Fred! Oh, my dear, my dear!"
The affectionate girl's arms were round Phœbe's neck, hugging her close, and her gay voice had drifted into tears. For Fred had kissed her, and Phœbe too; and somehow or other, in these kissings the news of Phœbe's and Fred's engagement was conveyed without ever a word being spoken about it. How Fanny danced round Phœbe, and how she commanded Fred to kiss her again, and how she kissed him unblushingly more than once, and how she hugged Phœbe again and again, and how her face flushed and her eyes sparkled, and how she got her hair rumpled in the most unaccountable manner, and how she seized Bob and waltzed round the room with him, dodging the chairs and tables in the most marvellous way, and how, finally, she fell upon the sofa, out of breath, not knowing whether to laugh or to cry, and therefore doing a little of both!—all this must be imagined, for it is impossible to describe.
"And oh, my dears, my dears!" she cried, "I hope you'll be happy for ever and ever!"
For brilliant impulsiveness there never was such a girl.