“I knew it,” cried Purvis, in delight. “I tracked your carriage to the D-D-Duomo, and I went in after you, and saw you at the co-co-co-co—”
“Corner,” whispered Martha, who, from his agonies, grew afraid of a fit.
“No, not the corner, but the co-co-co-coufessional-confessional, where you stayed for an hour and forty minutes by my own watch; and I couldn't help thinking that your pec-pec-pec-peccadilloes were a good long score, by the time it took to to to tell them.”
“Thanks, sir,” said Kate, bowing, and with difficulty restraining her laughter; “thanks for the very kind interest you seem to have taken in my spiritual welfare.”
“Would that I might be suffered a participation in that charge, Miss Dalton,” cried Mrs. Ricketts, with enthusiasm, “and allowed to hold some converse with you on doctrinal questions!”
“Try her with the posers, sister,” whispered Purvis. “Hush, Scroope! Mere opportunities of friendly discussion, nothing more I ask for, Miss Dalton.”
“Give her the posers,” whispered Purvis, louder.
“Be quiet, Scroope. I have been fortunate enough to resolve the doubts of more than one ere this. That dear angel, the Princess Ethelinda of Cobourgh, I believe I may say, owes her present enlightenment to our sweet evenings together.”
“Begin with the posers.”
“Hush! I say, Scroope.”