"What are the delightful things—offers?"
"Don't be so tiresome. No, of course not. You know very well that nothing of that kind ever happens to me."
"Indeed, if that is the case, it can only be because your frocks are almost always crumpled, and—what's that long bit of blue ribbon that I see?"
"It's all right—that's how it's meant to go. I can't think why you fancy that I'm not tidy. St. George is always saying so too."
"That's very hard. Well, child?"
"I thought perhaps you knew that Grand had invited me to stay six weeks at his house—Laura Melcombe to be there also, and we two to do just as we liked. The whole of August, John, and part of September, and that's the very time when I can't come, because we are going to be at the seaside. Dorothea is to join us, you know, and if I do not see her then I never shall, for they are to sail at Christmas."
"There is a world of misery to be got out of conflicting pleasures," said John philosophically. "You can't come, that's evident; and I had just given orders that the new canoe should be painted and the old one caulked. Two quiet ponies for you to drive (you are a very tolerable whip, I know). As to the grapes, a house is being kept back on purpose to be ripe just at that time; and the croquet balls are all sent to be painted. Melancholy facts! but such is life."
"No but, John——"
"I'm extremely busy to-day."
"Not so busy that you have not time to laugh at me. This would have been almost the greatest pleasure I ever had."