"I am doubly, trebly rewarded for anything I may have done by hearing such words from your lips. To know you are 'glad you married me' is the next best thing to knowing you love me."
"And so I do love you, you silly boy, I am very, very fond of you. Marmaduke, do you think you could get Billy here for the ball?"
"I will try. I dare say I shall be able to manage it. And now run away and get Blanche Going to help you write out a list of people. She knows every one in the county, and is a capital hand at anything of that sort."
"She seems to be a capital hand at most things," I reply, pettishly, "except at making herself agreeable to me. It is always Blanche Going can do this, and Blanche Going can do that. She is a paragon of perfection in your eyes, I do believe. I won't ask her to help me. I hate her."
"Well ask any one else you like, then, or no one. But don't hate poor Blanche. What has she done to deserve it?"
"Nothing. But I hate her for all that. I feel like a cat with its fur rubbed up the wrong way whenever I am near her. She has the happy knack of always making me feel small and foolish. I suppose we are antagonistic to each other. And why do you call her 'poor Blanche?' I don't see that she is in any need of your pity."
"Have you not said she has incurred your displeasure? What greater misfortune could befall her?" says 'Duke, smiling tenderly into my cross little face.
I relent and smile in turn.
"Oh, believe me, she will not die of that," I say; "and at all events don't you be unhappy, 'Duke," patting his face softly. "I shall never hate you—be sure of that."
And then catching up my train to facilitate my movements, I run through the house in search of Harriet and Bebe, to make known to them my news and discuss with them all the joys and glories of a ball.