"I like what is in it best," he said. "What's that?" she asked coquettishly. "You." "O, I daresay," with a saucy toss of her head. "But it's the dress I want to know about." "It's the very prettiest dress I ever saw." "I thought you would like it;" and then she inquired anxiously, "It isn't too short, is it?" With a lover's jealousy, he said he thought it might be a trifle longer. "Goose!" she exclaimed, with an air of superior wisdom. "As if you knew anything about it! If I had ugly feet, of course I should have made it a little longer. Perhaps I _have_ got ugly feet." "O!" he said. "You've got the prettiest feet in the world." Accepting this statement (with feminine logic) as a decision in her favour respecting the length of the dress, she said, "I'm glad you're pleased with it; I never made anything for myself without considering whether you will like it. Just see if my panier is right, Alf." He said, with a critical eye that her panier was just the thing. Martha Day noted this comedy with wistful gaze. To them it was the pleasantest of plays--to her the dreariest. "So that, take me altogether, Alf," said Lizzie, "you think I'll do?" "If you speak like that, Lizzie, I _shall_ hug you. I won't be able not to." (Most ungrammatical, but very expressive.) "If you're not quiet, Alf, I shall run away." "And now tell me; I want to know all about it. When Mr. Sheldrake gave me your note I was regularly knocked over. I had to read it twice before I could make sure. How long have you known Mr. Sheldrake? And how did you come to know him? And how did he find out about you and me?" Lovers are never tired of asking questions. In this respect they resembled the character of the American people, which, if I were asked to define tersely, I should define thus: ? "It's like a delightful fairy story," said Lizzy. "Nonsense, Lizzie. _Do_ be sensible." "It isn't nonsense, Alf. It really and truly is like a delightful fairy story, and if you don't think so, I'll not tell you anything about it." "I'll say it's like anything, if you'll only tell me all about it." "Well, then, I must commence properly. Once upon a time----" Here she paused, in the most tantalising manner, and asked, "Where do I live?" "Why, where you lived the last time I was at your place." "How long ago is that?" with an air of not having the most remote idea as to whether it was a day, or a week, or a year. "This day last week, you little tease." "Was it?" as though she really had no idea. "Perhaps you're right. Well, everything's altered since then. I don't live there any longer. But, Alfred, isn't your sister here?" "Yes," he answered, not knowing what to make of her humour. "Oughtn't we to go to her? I hope she'll like me." "She loves you already, for my sake, Lizzie. She told me so, and is longing to see you. But we've no occasion to hurry. We'll walk slowly, and then you can tell me your fairy story."