"Sure your explanation must be true, Mr. Philosopher," said Margaret, "'tis so profound. As for me, I seek no reasons; 'tis enough to know that most witty women are frights; and I don't blame the men for refusing to be charmed by 'em." "Well, sis," said Tom, "I'm sure even the cultivation of wit wouldn't make you a fright. So you might amuse yourself by trying it, ma'am. As for charming the men, you married ladies have no more to do with that." "Oh, haven't we? Sure, I think 'tis time little boys were in bed, who talk of things they know nothing about. Isn't that so, Bert?" "Why," said I, "for my part, I think 'tis unkind for a woman to exercise her charms upon men after she has destroyed the possibility of rewarding their devotion." "Dear me, you talk like a character in a novel. Well, then, you're both agreed I mustn't be charming. So I'll be disagreeable, and begin with you two. Here's a book of sermons Mr. Cornelius must have left. That will help me, if anything will." And she sat down with the volume in her hands, took on a solemn frown, and began to read to herself. After awhile, at a giggle of amusement from schoolboy Tom, she turned a rebuking gaze upon us, over the top of the book; but the very effort to be severe emphasised the fact that her countenance was formed to give only pleasure, and our looks brought back the smile to her eyes. "'Tis no use," said Tom, "you couldn't help being charming if you tried." She threw down the book, and came and put her arm around him, and so we all three stood before the fire till Philip returned. "Ah," she said, "here is one who will never ask me to be ugly or unpleasant." "Who has been asking impossibilities, my dear?" inquired Philip, taking her offered hand in his. "These wise gentlemen think I oughtn't to be charming, now that I'm married." "Then they think you oughtn't to be yourself; and I disagree with 'em entirely." She gave him her other hand also, and stood for a short while looking into his innocent, fond eyes. "You dear old Phil!" she said slowly, in a low voice, falling for the moment into a tender gravity, and her eyes having a more than wonted softness. The next instant, recovering her light playfulness with a little laugh, she took his arm and led the way to the dining-room.