Dilly. What for, Harry? You going to scold me?
Harry. Yes, Dilly. This frolic of yours has grieved me very much. You are too old now to indulge in such pranks.
Dilly. Why, Harry, you and Fred and Bob hoisted Mr. Butts’s horse up into the steeple; and I’m sure you are all older than I.
Harry. That’s a different matter altogether. We are young men, and you are a young lady.
Dilly. Well, don’t you think young men ought to behave themselves, Harry?
Harry. Yes, of course; that is—sometimes. Oh, pshaw! What I mean is, Dilly, I don’t want you to do such a thing again. It will grieve me very much.
Dilly. Then I’ll never do it again. I’m sure, Harry, if you want me to be a good girl, I shall try ever so hard; for I love you dearly, Harry: and if ever I should grieve you, I—I—I— (Weeps.)
Harry. There, there! Run off, and finish cutting out your stars: that’s much better than cutting up pranks.
Dilly. Oh, the stars! I forgot all about them.
Harry. Confound it! I must turn over a new leaf.