"A little disparity, you know," said Tackleton with another nudge. "Come and spend an evening with us beforehand."
"Why?" demanded John, astonished at this pressing hospitality.
"Why?" returned the other. "That's a new way of receiving an invitation. Why, for pleasure—sociability, you know, and all that."
"I thought you were never sociable," said John in his plain way.
"Tchah! It's of no use to be anything but free with you, I see," said Tackleton. "Why, then, the truth is, you have a—what tea-drinking people call a sort of a comfortable appearance together, you and your wife. We know better, you know, but——"
"No, we don't know better," interposed John. "What are you talking about?"
"Well! We don't know better, then," said Tackleton. "We'll agree that we don't. As you like; what does it matter? I was going to say, as you have that sort of appearance, your company will produce a favourable effect on Mrs. Tackleton that will be. And, though I don't think your good lady's very friendly to me in this matter, still she can't help herself from falling into my views, for there's a compactness and cosiness of appearance about her that always tells, even in an indifferent case. You'll say you'll come?"
"We have arranged to keep our Wedding-day (as far as that goes) at home," said John. "We have made the promise to ourselves these six months. We think, you see, that home—"
"Bah! what's home?" cried Tackleton. "Four walls and a ceiling! (Why don't you kill that Cricket? I would! I always do. I hate their noise.) There are four walls and a ceiling at my house. Come to me!"
"You kill your Crickets, eh?" said John.