“No-o,” she cried, in a passion of distressed truthfulness.
“Thank you, my dear! What a flattering creature you’ll become, if you keep on as you’ve begun! How you’ll wheedle the men, to be sure!”
“But mustn’t I say what I think?”
“Always! I’m a bad adviser! Think of bringing up a young person, especially a girl, to speak the truth! What a time she’ll have!”
“But I couldn’t do anything else!” she continued, with absorbing and painful anxiety.
“Don’t, then! I’m instructing you to your destruction, but––don’t! I’m a philosopher in the School for Making Simpletons. What will you do when you go out into the broad world with truth for your banner and your heart on your sleeve?”
“How could I have my heart on my sleeve?” asked Celestina.
“Because you couldn’t help it!”
“Really and truly on my sleeve?”
“Really and truly!” he affirmed, gravely.