"
"Well, the solution is, they are three fools."
"No, uncle, begging your pardon, they are not," replied Lucy, politely
but firmly.
"Well, then, three d--d fools."
Lucy winced at the participle, but was two polite to lecture her
elder. "They have not that excuse," said she; "they are all sensible
women, who discharge the duties of life with discretion except
society; and they can discriminate between grave and gay whenever they
are not at a party; and as for Mrs. Luttrell, when she is alone with
me she is a sweet, natural love."
"They cackled--at every word--like that--the whole evening!!??"
"Except when you told that funny story about the Irish corporal who
was attacked by a mastiff, and killed him with his halberd, and, when
he was reproached by his captain for not being content to repel so
valuable an animal with the butt end of his lance, answered--ha! ha!"
"So, then, he answered 'Haw! haw!' did he?"
"Now, uncle! No; he answered, 'So I would, your arnr, if he had run at
me with his tail!' Now, that was genuine wit, mixed with quite enough
fun to make an intelligent person laugh; and then you told it so
drolly--ha! ha!"
"They did not laugh at _that?"_
"Sat as grave as judges."
"And you tell me they are not fools."
"I must repeat, they have not that excuse. Perhaps their risibility
had been exhausted. After laughing three hours _a propos de
rien,_ it is time to be serious out of place. I will tell you what
they _did_ laugh at, though.
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