"I always thought it was so exquisite!" said Florence.
"I was so struck with it," said Constance, "that I have been looking ever since for an object to waste my affections upon."
"Hush, Constance!" said her mother. "Don't you like it, Mr. Carleton?"
"I should like to hear Miss Ringgan's commentary," said Mr. Stackpole;--" I can't anticipate it. I should have said the sentiment was quite soft and tender enough for a woman."
"Don't you agree with it, Mr. Carleton," repeated Mrs. Evelyn.
"I beg leave to second Mr. Stackpole's motion," he said smiling.
"Fleda my dear, you must explain yourself,--the gentlemen are at a stand."
"I believe, Mrs. Evelyn," said Fleda smiling and blushing,--I am of the mind of the old woman who couldn't bear to see anything wasted."
"But the assertion is that it isn't wasted," said Mr. Stackpole.
"'That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain,'" said Mrs. Evelyn.