They talked to each other and at all the company within hearing, and
exchanged curt speeches which had for them all the sensation of repartee.
Young Man. They say that beauty unadorned is adorned the most.
Young Woman (bridling, and twitching her head from side to side, in the
high excitement of the dialogue). Flattery is out of place.
Young Man. Well, never mind. If you don't believe me, you ask your mother
when you get home.
(Titter from the younger sister.)
Young Woman (scornfully). Umph! my mother has no control over me!
Young Man. Nobody else has, either, I should gay. (Admiringly.)
Young Woman. Yes, you've told the truth for once, for a wonder. I'm able
to take care of myself,--perfectly. (Almost hoarse with a sense of
sarcastic performance.)
Young Man. "Whole team and big dog under the wagon," as they say out
West.
Young Woman. Better a big dog than a puppy, any day.
Giggles and horror from the younger sister, sensation in the young man,
and so much rapture in the young woman that she drops the key of her
state-room from her hand. They both stoop, and a jocose scuffle for it
ensues, after which the talk takes an autobiographical turn on the part
of the young man, and drops into an unintelligible murmur.
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