Artful Dolf, profound in his knowledge of the sex, read her thoughts without the slightest difficulty, and chuckled inwardly at the idea that any female heart could resist his fascinations. Still he was in a condition of great perplexity; he had no intention of committing himself until he had learned the exact price Clorinda could pay for the sacrifice he was prepared to make of his youth and good looks. On the other hand, he was sorely puzzled how to obtain the desired information without laying his heart at her feet. All his craft in that direction had signally failed; in that respect Clorinda was astute enough to be fully his match. But he must say something; Dolf could not afford to lose time in misunderstandings, particularly as he had lately discovered that the sable parson whose meetings she attended, was becoming seriously devoted in his attentions. "Ah! Miss Clorindy," he said, "de sect is all resemblous in one particular." "What do yer mean?" inquired Clo, and her voice softened in response to the tenderness in his. "In yer cruelty," said Dolf, "yer cruelty, Miss Clorindy." "Laws, nobody ebber sed I was cruel," returned the matter-of-fact Clo. "I wrings de necks ob de chickens and skin de eels alive, 'cause it's a cook's lookout, but I hasn't got a speck ob cruelty in me." Dolf shook his head, then dropped it on one side with an air which he had found very effective in former flirtations. "In course yer'll deny it--it's de way ob de sect, but de fact is dar." "I don't know what yer mean," said Clorinda, beginning to resume a little of her usual rigidity; "if yer ain't a talkin' Spanish now, it's jist as bad." "I alludes to de coquettations in which yer all indulge." "I don't," said Clo; "I leaves all sich foolishnesses to silly things like dat Vic--I hasn't no patience wid 'em." "Oh! Miss Clorindy, Miss Clorindy!" "Dat's my name, fast 'nuff; yer needn't go shouting it out dat ways." "When I'se seed wid my own eyes," said Dolf. "What has yer seen? Jis' 'ticlarise--I hate beatin' round de bush." Clo really believed that Dolf was getting jealous; the bare idea filled her with a delicious thrill--triumphs of that sort were sufficiently rare in her experience to be exceedingly precious. "But I don't know what yer mean," she went on, "no more'n de man in de moon." "Dar it is!" said Dolf. "Why, I b'lieves dat ar's de only reason de sect looks at de moon, cause dar's a man in it." "Oh, he's too far off," returned Clo, with a prolonged chuckle at her own wit; "too high up for much use." "Bery good," said Dolf, "bery good indeed! Yer's in fine spirits to-day, Miss Clorindy." Here Dolf sighed dolefully. He certainly was in earnest this time--Clo felt assured of that. She forgot the half-washed vegetables, the unseasoned soup, and tried to pose herself with becoming dignity. "I don't see why," she said, in sweet confusion. "But any how yer didn't prove nothin' 'bout my bein' coquettious."