we've done it very well. I have enjoyed myself thoroughly." "And now you've got to go home to John Grey and Cambridgeshire! It's no wonder you should be melancholy." That was the thought in Kate's mind, but she did not speak it out on this occasion. "That's good of you, Alice," said Kate. "Is it not, George? I like a person who will give a hearty meed of approbation." "But I am giving the meed of approbation to myself." "I like a person even to do that heartily," said Kate. "Not that George and I are thankful for the compliment. We are prepared to admit that we owe almost everything to you,—are we not, George?" "I'm not; by any means," said George. "Well, I am, and I expect to have something pretty said to me in return. Have I been cross once, Alice?" "No; I don't think you have. You are never cross, though you are often ferocious." "But I haven't been once ferocious,—nor has George." "He would have been the most ungrateful man alive if he had," said Alice. "We've done nothing since we've started but realize from him that picture in 'Punch' of the young gentleman at Jeddo who had a dozen ladies to wait upon him." "And now he has got to go home to his lodgings, and wait upon himself again. Poor fellow! I do pity you, George." "No, you don't;—nor does Alice. I believe girls always think that a bachelor in London has the happiest of all lives. It's because they think so that they generally want to put an end to the man's condition." "It's envy that makes us want to get married,—not love," said Kate. "It's the devil in some shape, as often as not," said he. "With a man, marriage always seems to him to be an evil at the instant." "Not always," said Alice. "Almost always;—but he does it, as he takes physic, because something worse will come if he don't. A man never likes having his tooth pulled out, but all men do have their teeth pulled out,—and they who delay it too long suffer the very mischief." "I do like George's philosophy,"