“Ah!” I ejaculated with a deep sigh, “I wish I had told you before. Now, it is too late!”
“Too late!” she rejoined, briskly. “Too late! Nonsense; it’s ‘never too late to mend.’”
“It is in some cases,” I said, as mournfully as Lady Dasher could have spoken; “and this is one of them!”
It was all over, I thought, so, why talk about it any more? What was done couldn’t be helped!
“Rubbish!” replied Miss Pimpernell; “you’ve had a tiff with her, and think you have parted for ever! You see, I know all about it without your telling me. You lovers are ever quarrelling and making up again; though, how you manage it, I can’t think. But, Frank, there must always be two to make a quarrel, and Minnie Clyde does not seem to have been one to yours. Tell me why you have altered so towards her; and, let us see whether old Sally cannot mend matters for you.”
She looked at me so kindly that I made a clean breast of all my troubles.
“Well, Frank!” she exclaimed, when I had got to the end of my story, “you are a big stupid, in spite of all your cleverness! You are not a bit sharper than the rest of your sex:—a woman has twice the insight of any of you lords of creation! Did I not tell you, not to believe that absurd story about Mr Mawley long ago—that it was only a silly tale of Shuffler’s, and not worth a moment’s credence? But, you wouldn’t believe me; and, here you have been knocking your head against a wall just on account of that cock-and-a-bull-story, and nothing else! Ah, you lovers will never learn common sense! If it wasn’t for us old ladies, you would get into such fine scrapes that you would never get out of them, I can tell you!”
“And you are sure it is not true, Miss Pimpernell?” I asked, imploringly.
“Certainly, Frank. Where are your eyes? You are as blind as a mole, my boy.”
“O, Miss Pimpernell!” I exclaimed, in remorse at my hasty conduct, “what shall I do to make my peace once more with her? She will never speak to me again, I know, unless you intercede for me, and tell her how the misunderstanding arose.”