"It is quite time we should go;—the theatre will be filled to overflowing at Miss Julia's benefit," remarked the gentleman. "I wish you would go with us, sister."
"Theatres will do for girls and fops," said the lady; "my mind requires something solid and weighty to satisfy it."
"Then I suppose Col. Edmunds suits you exactly," observed the gentleman, laughing; "he is a real Sir John Falstaff in proportions."
"I'm in no mood for your frivolous jests. If you were in a rational temper I would like to ask you a question."
"Well, out with it. I'm as rational at thirty as I ever will be, probably."
"You were becoming quite a decent man before this fly-a-way girl came among us. Now I wish to know when she is going away?"
"Heavens! I don't know; not at present, I hope," said the gentleman, quickly.
"Well, either she or I will leave pretty soon," returned the lady, pursing up her lips with a stiff, determined expression; "she is such a self-willed, obstinate little thing, and turns the house all topsy-turvy, and makes such a racket and confusion, that I cannot and will not endure it longer. My mind requires quiet for contemplation."
"Why, she seems to me like a sunbeam; like a canary-bird in the house, sister; warming, and filling it with music."
"She seems to me more like a hurricane, or wild-cat," remarked the lady, spitefully.