LUCILLA. But then she may scratch Florrie! and it will hurt her so sir! if you only want brown hairs, wouldn't two of mine do? L. Would you really rather pull out your own than Tittie's? LUCILLA. Oh, of course, if mine will do. L. But that's very wicked, Lucilla! LUCILLA. Wicked, sir? L. Yes, if your heart was not so bad, you would much rather pull all the cat's hairs out, than one of your own. LUCILLA. Oh! but, sir, I didn't mean bad like that. L. I believe, if the truth were told, Lucilla, you would like to tie a kettle to Tittie's tail, and hunt her round the playground. LUCILLA. Indeed, I should not, sir. L. That's not true, Lucilla; you know it cannot be. LUCILLA. Sir? L. Certainly it is not;--how can you possibly speak any truth out of such a heart as you have? It is wholly deceitful. LUCILLA. Oh! no, no; I don't mean that way; I don't mean that it makes me tell lies, quite out. L. Only that it tells lies within you? LUCILLA. Yes. L. Then, outside of it, you know what is true, and say so; and I may trust the outside of your heart; but within, it is all foul and false. Is that the way? LUCILLA. I suppose so: I don't understand it quite. L. There is no occasion for understanding it; but do you feel it? Are you sure that your heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked? LUCILLA (much relieved by finding herself among phrases with which she is acquainted). Yes, sir. I'm sure of that. L. (pensively). I'm sorry for it, Lucilla. LUCILLA. So am I, indeed. L. What are you sorry with, Lucilla? LUCILLA. Sorry with, sir? L. Yes; I mean, where do you feel sorry; in your feet? LUCILLA (laughing a little). No, sir, of course. L. In your shoulders, then? LUCILLA. No, sir. L. You are sure of that? Because, I fear, sorrow in the shoulders would not be worth much. LUCILLA. I suppose I feel it in my heart, if I really am sorry. L. If you really are! Do you mean to say that you are sure you are utterly wicked, and yet do not care? LUCILLA. No, indeed; I have cried about it often. L. Well, then, you are sorry in your heart? LUCILLA. Yes, when the sorrow is worth anything. L. Even if it be not, it cannot be anywhere else but there. It is not the crystalline lens of your eyes which is sorry, when you cry? LUCILLA. No, sir, of course. L. Then, have you two hearts; one of which is wicked, and the other grieved? or is one side of it sorry for the other side? LUCILLA. (weary of cross-examination, and a little vexed). Indeed, sir, you know I can't understand it; but you know how it is written--"another law in my members, warring against the law of my mind."