"I never heard you lift up your voice before." "I seem what I am," reply I, shortly.

"I _am_ cheerful." "You mostly are." "That is all that _you_ know about it," reply I, brusquely, rather resenting the accusation.

"I have not been _at all_ in good spirits all this--this autumn and winter, not, that is, compared to what I usually am." "Have not you ?" "I _am_ in good spirits to-day, I grant you," continue I, more affably; "it would be very odd if I were not.

I should jump out of my skin if I were quite sure of getting back into it again; I have had _such_ good news." "Have you?
I wish _I_ had" (sighing).

"What is it ?" "I will give you three guesses," say I, trying to keep grave, but breaking out everywhere, as I feel, into badly-suppressed smiles.
"Something about the boys, of course!"-- (half fretfully)--"it is always the boys." "It is nothing about the boys--quite wrong.