d," said FREDERICK.

"Gone to bed! And _you_ out! Why, what can you think me made of?" But he
only looked at me from under his eyes and laughed. "I'm not a stock or a
stone."

"Certainly not, my darling. I may perhaps be permitted to observe--in
your own picturesque language--quite the reverse. _Quite_ the reverse,"
and he again tapped the table.

"No, love"--said I; for I thought I'd at once nip _that_ notion in the
bud--"of course I don't wish, in fact, I should never think of such a
thing, as to desire to control you in the choice of your friends. If I
don't like MR. TRUEPENNY, why I can't help it; and there's an end. But
what I wish to say, my love, is this--oh, it's no laughing matter, for
I'm quite in earnest, I assure you--if MR. TRUEPENNY thinks he's to keep
you out till twelve at night, and I'm to go to bed; if he thinks
_that_"--

"But I don't believe"--said FRED coolly--"he thinks anything of the
matter. Indeed, what is it to him whether you never go to bed at all?"

"Of course; nothing. Only I'm not going to sit up and say nothing. A
woman's not to be kept out of her bed as if her soul wasn't her own."--

"Why, your soul doesn't wear a nightcap, does it?" asked FRED, meaning
to be aggravating.

"I don't know _that_," said I; for, as I've said, I was determined to
nip the notion in the bud. "Nevertheless"--for I wasn't to be put
off--"what _could_ you talk of till twelve o'clock?"

FRED said nothing, but looked up at the ceiling.

"No good, I'm sure," said I in a bit of a passion, and before I knew it.

"CHARLOTTE!" cried FREDERICK, and his eyes flashed, as I'd never seen
'em. And then in a moment he looked kind, and I thought sad; and holding
out his hand, he said, looking at me and his eyes softening,--"LOTTY,
love, don't let us quarrel."

My heart was in my throat, and my arm about his neck. "We shall never
quarrel, FRED," said I. "But what I meant to say was--what an odd person
MR. TRUEPENNY is."

"Odd? A most excellent fellow!" said FREDERICK with energy.

"Of course. You wouldn't have any other for a friend: I know that, love.
But what I mean is, he's so confused--so bashful."

"Yes. A bachelor's fault. I was so myself once. But it's wonderful what
confidence marriage gives a man. Kiss me, my darling."

"There, now, FRED; it's Sunday," said I, not knowing what to say. "But
why should MR. TRUEPENNY be in such a twitter when he sees me? He
blushes and stammers, and"--

"It's your beaut