"You have done a fine thing!" said Lawrence. "That is the worst of
you."
"Oh, do please tell me what is the best, or at least the medium, for a
change," was the answer.
"My dear Carrie----"
"If you call me Carrie you will drive me mad," said Carrissima.
"I fancy you must be," exclaimed her brother, standing on the hearthrug
and looking as solemn as the judge he hoped some day to become. One
hand was thrust between the buttons of his morning coat, the other
clasped its lapelle, his head was flung back, and one foot rested on
the fender. "An immense pity," he added, "that you can never mind your
own business."
Carrissima skilfully mimicked his attitude.
"May it please you, m'lud, and gentlemen of the jury," she said,
causing Lawrence hastily to change his pose, and Phoebe to look a
little scandalized.
"There's a time for everything," he insisted, with a blush. "Let me
tell you this is no laughing matter."
"You should not make yourself look so ridiculous," said Carrissima.
"Why should you everlastingly be retained for the prosecution?"
"You would certainly require a clever defence," returned Lawrence.
Pages:
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53