“ You know,” returned poor little Miss Podsnap. “I think I should go out of my mind, Sophronia, with vexation and shyness and detestation, if anybody did. It’s enough for me to see how loving you and your husband are. That’s a different thing. I couldn’t bear to have anything of that sort going on with myself. I should beg and pray to—to have the person taken away and trampled upon.”
Ah! here was Alfred. Having stolen in unobserved, he playfully leaned on the back of Sophronia’s chair, and, as Miss Podsnap saw him, put one of Sophronia’s wandering locks to his lips, and waved a kiss from it towards Miss Podsnap.
“What is this about husbands and detestations?” inquired the captivating Alfred.
“Why, they say,” returned his wife, “that listeners never hear any good of themselves; though you—but pray how long have you been here, sir?”
“This instant arrived, my own.”
“Then I may go on—though if you had been here but a moment or two sooner, you would have heard your praises sounded by Georgiana.”
“Only, if they were to be called praises at all which I really don’t think they were,” explained Miss Podsnap in a flutter, “for being so devoted to Sophronia.”
“Sophronia!” murmured Alfred. “My life!” and kissed her hand. In return for which she kissed his watch-chain.
“But it was not I who was to be taken away and trampled upon, I hope?” said Alfred, drawing a seat between them.
“Ask Georgiana, my soul,” replied his wife.
Alfred touchingly appealed to Georgiana.