"Any way, my love, those dearest beings are vitally interested in the matter of our voyage. Therefore, I'll at once go and charter a boat. Would you like it with a deck?"—
"Why, my love, my dearest—as for a boat, I"—and I felt alarmed.
"Columbus found America almost in a punt," said Fred; "then surely we may seek our arms in"—
"But stop," I cried; for he was really going. "After all, love," and I resolutely seated myself on his knee, and held him round the neck—"after all, you have not told me what are your arms? I mean your arms from Joan of Arc."
"Why, you know, my love, that Joan of Arc was a shepherdess?"
"I should hope I knew as much as that," said I.
"Very good. Well, in order to perpetuate the beautiful humility of her first calling, Charles the Seventh magnificently permitted her and all her descendants, to carry in her shield—a lamb's fry!"
"Now, Frederick!"
"Such are my bearings, inherited in a direct line—I say in a direct line—from the Maid of Orleans!"—
"From the Maid of—" and then I saw what a goose he had made of me; and didn't I box his ears, but not to hurt him; and didn't we afterwards agree that the hall-chairs should remain as they were, and that life might be beautiful and bright enough without a touch of herald's paint.