“Mi—must I tell thee all that happened in the vestibule?”
“No. I know.”
“Oh! Thi—thee saw us?”
“I went straight to bed.”
“Then, how, Bell-Bell, dear—”
“Look here, I’ve been through all that. There are others besides John Rem. I don’t like him a bit to-night. And I shall tell him so very early in the morning.”
“Not so tall and strong as he, I think, dear Bell-Bell.”
“All right. Go to bed, you wicked little Quaker.”
“I can’t. I’ve got to talk. Bell-Bell, there couldn’t have been any one to hold thee that way—as if thee were never to get away again! And—and kiss thee. That is twice!” she wailed, with the air of a felon confessing his felonies. “Does thee think me irreparably wicked? He does, I know, and will never look at me again.”
“Never fear. They like us to be wicked—a little—you know. Now, off to bed with you!”