"How so?"
"Oh, here are a couple just married, and who are as happy as happy can be; and people will crowd around them wishing much joy; but who thinks of wishing joy to the forlorn old bachelors and restless old maids?"
"Well, Harry, if you want people to wish you much happiness, why don't you do as the doctor has done, get yourself a wife?"
"I will," he replied, soberly, "when you say so."
"Oh, Harry, don't be so absurd."
"Indeed there isn't a bit of absurdity about what I say. I am in earnest." There was something in the expression of Harry's face and the tone of his voice which arrested the banter on Lucille's lips.
"I think it was Charles Lamb," replied Lucille, "who once said that school-teachers are uncomfortable people, and, Harry, I would not like to make you uncomfortable by marrying you."
"You will make me uncomfortable by not marrying me."
"But," replied Lucille, "your mother may not prefer me for a daughter. You know, Harry, complexional prejudices are not confined to white people."
"My mother," replied Harry, with an air of confidence, "is too noble to indulge in such sentiments."