“You almost make me think you a nat'ral! Young men _always_ pay for young women, and no questions asked. Did you not remark how smartly I offered to pay for this Miss, and how well she took it, until you stepped forward and cut me out;--I bore it, for it saved me three nine-pences.” “I observed how Miss Mordaunt shrunk from the familiarity of being called Miss, and how unwilling she was to let you buy the tickets; and that I suspect was solely because she saw you had some notion of what you call a treat.” I cannot enter into the philosophy of the thing, but certainly nothing is more vulgar in English, to address a young lady as Miss, without affixing a name, whereas I know it is the height of breeding to say Mademoiselle in French, and am told the Spaniards, Italians and Germans, use its synonyme in the same manner. I had been indignant at Jason's familiarity when he called Anneke--the pretty Anneke!--Miss; and felt glad of an occasion to let him understand how I felt on the subject. “What a child you be, a'ter all, Corny!” exclaimed the pedagogue, who was much too good-natured to take offence at a trifle. “You a bachelor of arts! But this matter _must_ be set right, if it be only for the honour of my school. Folks”--Jason never blundered on the words 'one' or 'people' in this sense--“Folks may think that you have been in the school since it has been under my care, and I wouldn't for the world have it get abroad that a youth from my school had neglected to treat a lady under such circumstances.” Conceiving it useless to remonstrate with _me_ any further, Jason proceeded forthwith to Anneke, with whom he begged permission to say a word in private. So eager was my companion to wipe out the stain, and so surprised was the young lady, who gently declined moving more than a step, that the conference took place immediately under my observation, neither of the parties being aware that I necessarily heard or saw all that passed. “You must excuse Corny, Miss,” Jason commenced, producing his purse again, and beginning to hunt anew for a quarter and a shilling; “he is quite young, and knows nawthin' worth speaking of, of the ways of mankind. Ah! here is just the money--three ninepennies, or three York shillings. Here, Miss, excuse Corny, and overlook it all; when he is older, he will not make such blunders.” “I am not certain that I understand you, sir!” exclaimed Anneke, who had shrunk back a little at the 'Miss,' and who now saw Jason hold out the silver, with a surprise she took no pains to conceal. “This is the price of the tickets--yes, that's all. Naw-thin' else, on honour. Corny, you remember, was so awful dumb as to let you pay, just as if you had been a gentleman.” Anneke now smiled, and glancing at me at the same instant, a bright blush suffused her face, though the meaning of my eye, as I could easily see, strongly tempted her to laugh.