| "Sweet sensibility, O, la! I heard a little lamb cry, bah!" |
said Mr. Claremont. "Come, Alice, don't cry about it, but tell me the price of the necklaces."
"How can I," said the sobbing Alice, "when you make such cruel sport of my feelings? Indeed, uncle, it is cruel!"
"I never make sport of your feelings, my dear, when there is any thing that ought to awaken them," said Mr. Claremont. "But come, tell me the price of the pearl necklaces."
"They are fifty dollars apiece."
"Whew!" said Mr. Claremont. "And so I must spend a hundred dollars to adorn the necks of my nieces?"
"O, Margarette can buy her own, you know uncle, and so you will have to give away but fifty."
"I hold Miss Claremont's purse-strings, you know," said Mr. Claremont, "and I shall serve you both alike. Margarette's, as well as yours, must be the gift of her uncle."
"I do not wish for one, my dear sir," said Margarette, but Mr. Claremont heeded her not, and opening his pocket book, gave them fifty dollars each. Alice loaded her uncle with kisses and thanks, while it was with evident reluctance that Margarette took hers in her hand. But as some ladies at that instant entered the room, without saying more, she put it in her purse. As soon as the visiters had withdrawn Alice went to her chamber, and Margarette seized the opportunity of being alone with Mr. Claremont, to restore to him the fifty dollars.
"My dear sir," said she, "I cannot accept this money, and should have declined it at the moment, only I could not explain before strangers. You will relieve me greatly by taking it again."