"Am I? Nevertheless, I am right. When he wasn't looking at you, he was thinking of you; when he wasn't thinking of you, he was looking at you. I am quite an experienced person in love matters. 'Mr. Cornwall,' said mamma, 'this is home-made gooseberry jam--my own making. What do you think of it?' 'It is a dream,' replied Fred. He was gazing at you when he passed that very remarkable opinion upon mamma's gooseberry jam. Afterward I heard mamma say to papa, 'Did you hear what Mr. Cornwall said of my gooseberry jam? He said it was a dream. Depend upon it, he means something by it.' And I happening to pop into the room just then, mamma looked at papa significantly; and papa looked at mamma significantly; and then both of them kissed me. I couldn't help laughing to myself and thinking, 'Mamma will have to try her gooseberry jam on some other young man.' And now, Phoebe, we will read Fred's letter." "How is it, Fanny, that Mr. Cornwall has written you so many letters?" asked Phoebe. "Jealous?" inquired Fanny. "No, I have no right to be; Mr. Cornwall is really nothing to me." "You should have ended that sentence with 'yet.' 'Mr. Cornwall is really nothing to me--yet!' Quite right for you to call him _Mr._ Cornwall; I shall call him Fred, to his face. He will like it--so shall I." "How you rattle on, Fanny!" "Yes," said Fanny, composedly; "papa used to call me a regular little chatterbox." "You have not answered my question, Fanny." "Oh, about the letters. How is it Fred has written me so many? I have received one, two, three, and this is the fourth. A famous correspondence, isn't it? The fact is," said Fanny unblushingly, "I asked him to write to me, and he, being such a polite young fellow, couldn't very well refuse. I did it quite openly; mamma was present. 'You might write me a nice chatty letter or two, Mr. Cornwall,' said I, 'while you are away.' 'I shall be very happy,' said he, looking at mamma, 'if I may be allowed.' '_I_ have no objection,' said mamma. His asking mamma was almost like a declaration, wasn't it? Many a man has been had up for breach of promise for less than that. And to think of a lawyer so committing himself! But I don't believe they are a bit cleverer than other people; they only pretend to be. 'But I shall stipulate,' said Fred, 'that you answer my letters.' 'Of course I will,' said I, without asking mamma; and I have. In the last one I wrote to him I said that you sent him your dearest love." "I hope you did not say that, Fanny." "If I didn't, I meant it; so that it amounts to the same thing. Don't be ungrateful, Phoebe. I inveigled him into writing to me for your sake, not for mine, though I _do_ wear his letters next to my heart. He is supposed to be addressing me in his correspondence, but he is really writing to you, and he knows that you read every word. Is there one of his letters without a lot about you in it?" "He is always thoughtful."