| Charles Frobisher. | [Seal.] |
| Alice Ditto. | [Seal.] |
| John Bouche Whacker. | [Seal.✻] |
[✻Porpoise. Ha! ha! ha!]
When Charley came out with his Compromise Resolutions, Alice was at first much taken aback, turning red and white by turns; nor do I believe she would ever have consented, had I not permitted myself to smile a rather triumphant smile of defiance. It was then that, nettled by this, she brought down her plump little fist upon the table and cried, “I’ll do it.”
“Brava!” cried Charley, patting her on the back.
“And you, sir!” said she, turning upon him. “I don’t believe you think I can do it.”
“I believe you capable of anything.”
“Well, I will show you. Decamp forthwith, both of you!”
Charley and I decamped accordingly, and betook ourselves to a very pleasant beer-garden (for this colloquy chanced to be held in Richmond), where we spent a couple of hours. On our return we found Alice sitting with dishevelled hair and looking very disconsolate.
“Where is chapter fifty-one?”
Alice pointed rather snappishly to the waste-basket, in which lay several sheets of paper, torn into shreds.