“Not receive me?”

“No, sir.”

“What’s the matter with my poor dress?”

“It’s abominable, sir—­oderous; and then your hair—­”

“My hair?” said Verty, pulling at a curl.

“Yes, sir—­it is preposterous, sir.  Did any body ever!”

And Miss Sallianna carried her eyes to heaven.

“I don’t know,” Verty said; “but it feels better.”

“It may, sir; but you must cut it off if you come again.”

Verty hesitated.

“I thought—­” he began.

“Well, sir?”

“I was thinking,” said the young man, feeling a vague idea that he was going wrong—­“I thought that you were not so very particular, as you are only a school-mistress, and not one of those fine ladies I have seen riding by in their carriages.  They might think some ceremony needed—­”

“Not a—­very well, sir—­a schoolmistress—­only—­indeed!” said Miss Sallianna, with dignity.

Verty was too little acquainted with the expression of concentrated feeling to understand these words, and smiling,

“Then,” he said, “there was another reason—­”

“For what, sir?” said Miss Sallianna, with great dignity.

“For my not being very particular.”

“Please state it, sir.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The lady sniffed with indignation.

“I meant,” said Verty, “that as you had very few beaux here—­I believe you call ’em beaux—­I could come so.  I know that Mr. Jinks comes, but he is too fierce to be agreeable, and is not very nice, I should think.”

Miss Sallianna darted a glance of scorn at the unlucky Verty, which would have transfixed that gentleman; but unfortunately he did not see it.

“Yes,” he went on, “there is a great deal of difference, Miss Sallianna, between coming to see you, who are only a schoolmistress, and hav’nt much fine company, and the rich ladies;—­then you know I thought that the difference between our ages—­you being so much older than I. am, about thirty or thirty-five, I suppose—­”

The cup was full.

“Mr. Verty,” gasped Miss Sallianna, “you will please to end our interview at once, sir!—­this language, sir, is intolerated, sir!—­if you wish to insult me, sir, you can remain!—­I consider your insinuations, sir, as unworthy of a gentleman.  The viper!” cried Miss Sallianna, becoming hysterical, and addressing her observations to the ceiling; “the viper which I warmed in my bosom, and who turns and rents me.”

Which was very ungallant in the viper not to say extraordinary, as it implied that vipers dwelt in houses “to let.”

“Who beguiled himself into this resort of innocence, and attacked my suspicious nature—­and now casts reproaches on my station in society and my youth!”

“Oh, ma’am!” cried Verty.

“Don’t speak to me, sir!

“No, ma’am.”

“Your very presence is deletrious.”