"Beautiful, indeed!" said a sixth melodious voice.
"My sister Harriet," said Mr. Bettifer, finishing his note of my metaphysical admission.
They all sat in one fascinating row. It was like being at a party. I felt uncomfortable in my coloured trowsers—more uncomfortable still, when Mr. Bettifer's sixth sister begged that she might not interrupt our previous conversation.
"We are so fond of metaphysical subjects," said Miss Elizabeth.
"Except that we think them rather exhausting for dear Alfred," said Miss Jane.
"Dear Alfred!" repeated the Misses Emily, Maria, and Kitty, in mellifluous chorus.
Not having a heart of stone, I was so profoundly touched, that I would have tried to resume the subject. But, Mr. Bettifer waved his hand impatiently, and declared that my admission had increased the difficulties of the original question until they had become quite insuperable. I had, it appeared, innocently driven him to the conclusion, that our present self was not our yesterday's self, but another self mistaken for it, which, in its turn, had no connection with the self of to-morrow. As this certainly sounded rather unsatisfactory, I agreed with Mr. Bettifer that we had exhausted that particular view of the subject, and that we had better defer starting another until a future opportunity. An embarrassing pause followed our renunciation of metaphysics for the day. Miss Elizabeth broke the silence by asking me if I was fond of pictures; and before I could say Yes, Miss Harriet followed her by asking me if I was fond of music.
"Will you show your picture, dear?" said Miss Elizabeth to Miss Harriet.
"Will you sing, dear?" said Miss Harriet to Miss Elizabeth.
"Do, dear!" said the Misses Jane and Emily to Miss Elizabeth.