"Yes--yes, I know," burst in Alfred; "she treated me like a porcupine this morning--or ant-eater, which is it, Fanny--the thing with quills, you know?" Miss Fanny Newt patted the floor with her foot. Alfred continued: "Yes, and Hope sent down, and she wanted to see me alone some time to-day." Fanny's foot stopped. "Alfred, dear," said she, "you are a good fellow, but you are too amiable. You must do just as I want you to, dearest, or something awful will happen." "Pooh! Fanny; nothing shall happen. I love you like any thing." Smack! smack! "Well, then, listen, Alfred! Your mother doesn't like me. She would do any thing to prevent your marrying me. The reasons I will tell you at another time. If you go home and talk with her and Hope Wayne, you can not help betraying that you are engaged to me; and--you know your mother, Alfred--she would openly oppose the marriage, and I don't know what she might not say to my father." Fanny spoke clearly and rapidly, but calmly. Alfred looked utterly bewildered. "It's a great pity, isn't it?" said he, feebly. "What do you think we had better do?" "We must be married, Alfred, dear!" "Yes; but when, Fanny?" "To-day," said Fanny, firmly, and putting out her hand to her beloved. He seized it mechanically. "To-day, Fanny?" asked he, after a pause of amazement. "Certainly, dear--to-day. I am as ready now as I shall be a year hence." "But what will my mother say?" inquired Alfred, in alarm. "It will be too late for her to say any thing. Don't you see, Alfred, dear!" continued Fanny, in a most assuring tone, "that if we go to your mother and say, 'Here we are, married!' she has sense enough to perceive that nothing can be done; and after a little while all will be smooth again?" Her lover was comforted by this view. He was even pleased by the audacity of the project. "I swear, Fanny," said he, at length, in a more cheerful and composed voice, "I think it's rather a good idea!" "Of course it is, dear. Are you ready?" Alfred gasped a little at the prompt question, despite his confidence. "Why, Fanny, you don't mean actually now--this very day? Gracious!" "Why not now? Since we think best to be married immediately and in private, why should we put it off until to-night, or next week, when we are both as ready now as we can be then?" asked Fanny, quietly; "especially as something may happen to make it impossible then." Alfred Dinks shut his eyes. "What will your father say?" he inquired, at length, without raising his eyelids. "Do you not see he will have to make up his mind to it, just as your mother will?" replied Fanny. "And my father!" said Alfred, in a state of temporary blindness continued. "Yes, and your father too," answered Fanny, both she and Alfred treating the Honorable Budlong Dinks as a mere tender to that woman-of-war his wife, in a way that would have been incredible to a statesman who considered his wife a mere domestic luxury.