I told him, it was not kind to be always throwing in my teeth that unfortunate speech; that he ought not to teaze me so.
“Do I teaze you? I was not aware of it.”
“Very likely not; and I am a great simpleton for allowing myself to be teazed with such trifles. But Doctor Urquhart cannot expect me to be as wise as himself; he is a great deal older than I.”
“Tell me, then,” he continued, in that kind tone, which always makes me feel something like a little pet donkey I once had, which, if I called it across the field, would come and lay its head on my hand,—not that, donkey as I am, I incline to trouble Doctor Urquhart in that way.—“Tell me what it is you do hate?”
“I hate to have to entertain strangers.”
“Then you do not consider me a stranger?”
“No; a friend.”
I may say that; for short as our acquaintance dates, I have seen more of Doctor Urquhart, and seem to know him better than any man in the whole course of my life. He did not refuse the title I gave him, and I think he was gratified, though he said only:—
“You are very kind, and I thank you.”
Presently I recurred to the subject of discussion, and wished him to promise what Augustus, and Lisabel, and we all desired.