"Will you do just those two things?"

"It's a beautiful programme. But suppose we leave out the first part?
I think you could do that alone. It would spoil it if I went. It's
such a nice little spontaneous idea of your own, you see. But if we
made it a regular family delegation--besides, it will take as much as
all me to manage the second. Rosamond is very elegant to-day. Last
night's twilight isn't over. And it's funny _we_'ve plans too; _we_'re
going to give lessons,--differently; we're going to lead off, for
once,--we Holabirds; and I don't know exactly how the music will chime
in. It _may_ make things--Holabirdy."

Rosamond had true perceptions, and she was conscientious. What she
said, therefore, when she was told, was,--

"O dear! I suppose it is right! But--just now! Right things do come in
so terribly askew, like good old Mr. Isosceles, sidling up the broad
aisle of a Sunday! Couldn't you wait awhile, Ruth?"

"And then somebody else would get the chance."

"There's nobody else to be had."

"Nobody knows till somebody starts up. They don't know there's _me_ to
be had yet."

"O Ruth! Don't offer to teach grammar, anyhow!"

"I don't know. I might. I shouldn't _teach_ it 'anyhow.'"