"Now, why in the world don't you ask me for my secret? I declare you take so little interest, and show so little curiosity, that it is not a bit of fun to hint a mystery to you. Do you want to hear, or don't you? I assure you it is a tremendous revelation, and it concerns you, too!"
"What is it, then? I am anxious to hear?"
"Oh! you do begin to show a little interest; and now, to punish you, I have a great mind not to tell you; however, I will take pity upon your suspense; but first, you must promise never, never, n-e-v-e-r to mention it again—will you promise?"
"Yes."
"Well, then, listen. Stop! get a good place to faint first, and then listen. Are you ready? One, two, three, fire. The Rev. Thurston Willcoxen is a married man!"
"What!"
"Mr. Thurston Willcoxen has been married for eight years past."
"Pshaw!"
"Mr. Willcoxen was married eight years ago this spring at a little
Methodist chapel near the navy yard of this city, and by an old
Methodist preacher, of the name of John Berry."
"You are certainly mad!"