"I believe you will," said he, looking at her.

"I am sure I should enjoy myself more at home, uncle Orrin.
There is very little rational pleasure to be had in these
assemblages."

"Rational pleasure!" said he. "Didn't you have any rational
pleasure last night?"

"I didn't hear a single word spoken, Sir, that was worth
listening to; at least, that was spoken to me; and the hollow
kind of rattle that one hears from every tongue, makes me more
tired than anything else, I believe. I am out of tune with it,
somehow."

"Out of tune!" said the old doctor, giving her a look made up
of humourous vexation and real sadness; "I wish I knew the
right tuning-key to take hold of you!"

"I become harmonious rapidly, uncle Orrin, when I am in this
pleasant little room alone with you."

"That wont do!" said he, shaking his head at the smile with
which this was said — "there is too much tension upon the
strings. So that was the reason you were all ready waiting for
me last night? Well, you must tune up, my little piece of
discordance, and go with me to Mrs. Thorn's to-morrow night —
I wont let you off."

"With you, Sir!" said Fleda.