“Good heavens, Prescott,” Frank said, turning round with great indignation, “what are you talking about?—stout little—by Jove, what put such a ridiculous idea in your head?” “Why, my dear Frank, you said she was rather short and plump.” “Pooh, nonsense,” Frank said; “she is rather short, perhaps, but has a charming little figure; just a little plump; but—” and muttering the obnoxious word over to himself, he smoked away in short angry puffs. Prescott could hardly help laughing aloud at the success which attended his ruse. “So Miss O'Byrne is not to be talked of lightly, eh, Frank?” “Oh, nonsense,” Frank said. “Of course one doesn't like to hear a girl like Katie talked of as a stout little—but there, of course you couldn't tell.” “And do you ever mean to repeat your visit, Frank?” “Well, yes, Prescott, I expect I shall go down there again; at least I hope so.” “And may I ask, Frank, if you have any intention of bringing Miss O'Byrne back with you?” Frank put his pipe down, and looked at Prescott, who was evidently greatly amused; then, after a moment's pause, he said,— “You have guessed it, Prescott, sure enough. If Katie will come, I will bring her up.” “Really, Frank?” “Really, old man. I should have told you sooner or later. I am quite in earnest. I will marry Katie O'Byrne if she will have me.” “I am very glad, Frank, very glad indeed;” and Prescott shook his friend warmly by the hand. “I always hoped you would do it sooner or later, Frank. You are only leading an idle useless life, and a wife will be the making of you. Of course she is very nice, Frank.” “My dear fellow,” Frank said, quite inclined to be communicative now that the ice was broken, “she is the most loveable girl in the world.” Prescott laughed. “But not pretty, eh, Frank?” “Well, Prescott, I suppose most men wouldn't call her pretty at first; I don't think I did; but I think her so now. Not pretty, perhaps, but loveable; that's the only word that expresses it, Prescott; just loveable, with the most trusting eyes you ever saw. She is full of fun, Katie, and has got a very decided will of her own. Not a bit of a muff, you know, Prescott.” “No, I don't think you would be likely to fall in love with a muff, Frank. Well, and what does the young lady think of you, Frank? Was it a very strong flirtation?” Frank laughed. “No, Prescott, not a bit of it. It was perpetual war. I am afraid I was very hard on her, but I did like teazing her, and making her indignant. Katie has rather a will of her own, you see, and can hit very hard when she likes; and she was immensely angry at being made fun of. I do think, sometimes, she almost hated me. I don't think she has the least idea I care for her; but I don't know, Prescott, I hope that in the end I shall win her.” Prescott smiled at Frank's description of his love-making. “Well, Frank, and what do you propose doing with yourself this evening?”