“Well, she needn’t get out her bandboxes yet; I’m not a fashionable party, and don’t mean to be; but I do like harmless larks now and then, don’t you?”

“Yes, nobody minds them, so lark away, but don’t get wild, will you? or there will be an end of all our good times.”

“I’ll be a double-distilled saint.”

“I can’t bear saints: just be a simple, honest, respectable boy, and we’ll never desert you. I don’t know what I should do if you acted like Mr. King’s son; he had plenty of money, but didn’t know how to spend it, and got tipsy and gambled, and ran away, and forged his father’s name, I believe, and was altogether horrid.”

“You think I’m likely to do the same? Much obliged.”