"Oh, never tell me! He'd never have sent letters and nosegays to _such_ a person, if she hadn't encouraged him." "Ha! that's how you women help one another! The man begins the injury, and the sister-woman finishes it. No, LOTTY; you'll do nothing of the sort. You'll not part with JOSEPHINE; and, more than that, you'll see young BLISS to-day. Who'd have thought to fight the brother of"-- "The fisherwoman? Well, it's very odd; I must say it's odd: and if I _do_ consent to see him, I know I shall only be laughed at." "Do what's right, LOTTY; and then you may laugh with the laughers." Now there was such good sense in this, that what could I say? Why, I didn't know; so I just put my arm about his neck. "Yes, my love, and you'll not crush poor TRUEPENNY"-- "Now, don't ask me that, FRED; that is really too much." "They'll both be here to-day; and, come, I'll strike a bargain with you, LOTTY?" "A bargain?" said I. "Why, what's the use, FRED, when you always get the best of it? Well, I'm in a foolish good temper, so what is it?" "If you'll receive young BLISS"-- "But is it really true that MISS BLISS--the young lady with the artificial flies--is going to be married? Really true?" "I've told you, I hear next week. That fine young fellow we saw at the church, he's the man. When _their_ honeymoon is over, I intend to ask them, and young BLISS, too, to _The Flitch_." "Well?" said I, a little relenting. "And now your bargain?" "You'll see young BLISS and TRUEPENNY--they'll be here to lunch--and we'll start for home, by the first stage to-day, directly afterwards. Is it a bargain?" "It's two days earlier than we're looked for," said I. "Very well, let us stop out the time here," cried FRED. "Not another hour. No; now I shall never be fully happy till I'm at home. I do verily believe, I shall go upon my knees and kiss the door-step. So JOSEPHINE has but to bestir herself--I only hope she'll prove herself worthy of the confidence we place in her; but it's a risk, FRED; depend on it, 'tis a risk." With this I ran away to my room, and made JOSEPHINE comfortable, telling her that I thought her a most imprudent, if not a very culpable young woman, to have nosegays and letters sent to her, and so to destroy the peace of families--for it was no use to tell me that she couldn't help the gentleman sending them, that I _couldn't_ believe;--but nevertheless if, as I believed, she was truly sorry for her conduct, I wouldn't have the heart to throw her upon the wide, wide world; but would much rather prefer to take her home with us, and--if she continued to behave herself--to make her happy as the day was long. I said all this; but I was sorry, really hurt to observe, that the young woman listened to a good deal I said, like any stone. But then for gratitude, who's to expect it?