“John, I really do think you are selfish; you don’t seem to have any consideration for me at all. It’s going to make it so disagreeable and uncomfortable for me. The Follingsbees are accustomed to wine every day. I’m perfectly ashamed not to give it to them.”
“Do ’em good to fast awhile, then,” said John, laughing like a hard-hearted monster. “You’ll see they won’t suffer materially. Bridget makes splendid coffee.”
“It’s a shame to laugh at what troubles me, John. The Follingsbees are my friends, and of course I want to treat them handsomely.”
“We will treat them just as handsomely as we treat ourselves,” said John, “and mortal man or woman ought not to ask more.”
“I don’t care,” said Lillie, after a pause. “I hate all these moral movements and society questions. They are always in the way of people’s having a good time; and I believe the world would wag just as well as it does, if nobody had ever thought of them. People will call you a real muff, John.”
“How very terrible!” said John, laughing. “What shall I do if I am called a muff? and what a jolly little Mrs. Muff you will be!” he said, pinching her cheek.
“You needn’t laugh, John,” said Lillie, pouting. “You don’t know how things look in fashionable circles. The Follingsbees are in the very highest circle. They have lived in Paris, and been invited by the Emperor.”
“I haven’t much opinion of Americans who live in Paris and are invited by the Emperor,” said John. “But, be that as it may, I shall do the best I can for them, and Mr. Young says, ‘angels could no more;’ so, good-by, puss: I must go to my office; and don’t let’s talk about this any more.”