The reason of it all is, that both are intensely "_set in their way_," and the ways of no two human beings are altogether coincident. Both of them have the most sharply defined, exact tastes and preferences. In the simplest matter both have _a way_,--an exact way,--which seems to be dear to them as life's blood. In the simplest appetite or taste they know exactly what they want, and cannot, by any argument, persuasion, or coaxing, be made to want anything else. For example, this morning dawns bright upon them, as she, in her tidy morning wrapper and trimly laced boots, comes stepping over the bales and boxes which are discharged on the verandah; while he, for joy of his new acquisition, can hardly let her walk on her own pretty feet, and is making every fond excuse to lift her over obstacles and carry her into her new dwelling in triumph. Carpets are put down, the floors glow under the hands of obedient workmen, and now the furniture is being wheeled in. "Put the piano in the bow-window," says the lady. "No, not in the bow-window," says the gentleman. "Why, my dear, of course it must go in the bow-window. How awkward it would look anywhere else! I have always seen pianos in bow-windows." "My love, certainly you would not think of dashing that beautiful prospect from the bow-window by blocking it up with the piano. The proper place is just here, in the corner of the room. Now try it." "My dear, I think it looks dreadfully there; it spoils the appearance of the room." "Well, for my part, my love, I think the appearance of the room would be spoiled, if you filled up the bow-window. Think what a lovely place that would be to sit in!" "Just as if we couldn't sit there behind the piano, if we wanted to!" says the lady. "But then, how much more ample and airy the room looks as you open the door, and see through the bow-window down that little glen, and that distant peep of the village-spire!" "But I never could be reconciled to the piano standing in the corner in that way," says the lady. "_I insist_ upon it, it ought to stand in the bow-window: it's the way mamma's stands, and Aunt Jane's, and Mrs. Wilcox's; everybody has their piano so." "If it comes to _insisting_," says the gentleman, "it strikes me that is a game two can play at." "Why, my dear, you know a lady's parlor is her own ground." "Not a married lady's parlor, I imagine. I believe it is at least equally her husband's, as he expects to pass a good portion of his time there." "But I don't think you ought to insist on an arrangement that really is disagreeable to me," says the lady. And now Hero's cheeks flush, and the spirit burns within, as she says,-- "Well, if you insist upon it, I suppose it must be as you say; but I shall never take any pleasure in playing on it"; and Hero sweeps from the apartment, leaving the victor very unhappy in his conquest. He rushes after her, and finds her up-stairs, sitting disconsolate and weeping on a packing-box.