"Where are you going, then?"
"To England."
"England? Has I mean, is there any addition to my list of acquaintances in the city?"
"Not that I know of," said Fleda, going on with her work.
"And you are going to England! Greenhouses will be a desolation to me! "
"I hope not," said Fleda, smiling; "you will recover yourself, and your sense of sweetness, in time."
"It will have nothing to act upon! And you are going to England! I think it is very mean of you not to ask me to go too, and be your bridesmaid."
"I don't expect to have such a thing," said Fleda.
"Not? Horrid! I wouldn't be married so, Fleda. You don't know the world, little Queechy; the art de vous faire valoir, I am afraid, is unknown to you."
"So it may remain with my good will," said Fleda.