“Yes, and mother thinks I ought to accept him.”
“And you have firmly made up your mind to marry me?” asked the Major, fondly.
“Yes, dear,” said Pandora, with a roguish smile, “but only when you have succeeded in getting for me your disconnected leg. You will try to get it for me soon, Henry, won’t you?”
“I am trying now, my sweet. Colonel Dabney, of the Maine delegation, has already introduced to the House of Representatives a bill appropriating my leg to me.”
“How splendid!”
“And he says it will pass promptly, so that I can obtain the leg within less than two months. We’ll be married right off then, won’t we?”
“At once. But I’m afraid, Henry, Mr. Smith and General Belcher will oppose Colonel Dabney’s bill if they hear of it.”
“I’ll brain both of them if they do,” said the Major. “No, I won’t brain Smith; he has no brains. And now, Pandora, darling, let us talk of something else. Are you sure, my dearest, that you love me very, very, very much?”
“Oh, Henry! ten thousand, thousand times more than I can ever tell you. I—”
A person passing the parlor door at this juncture might have heard a sharp sound resembling somewhat that made by the tearing of a piece of muslin. The conversation need not be quoted at greater length. It appeared to give the most intense pleasure to the Major and Pandora, but talk of that kind is usually rather dreary for outside parties; so we will lower the curtain here.