"In love, Neal!" said the schoolmaster. "May I inquire with whom?"

"Wid nobody in particular yet," replied Neal; "but o' late I'm got
divilish fond o' the girls in general."

"And do you call that being in love, Neal?" said Mr. O'Connor.

"Why, what else would I call it?" returned the tailor. "Am n't I
fond o' them?"

"Then it must be what is termed the 'universal passion,' Neal,"
observed Mr. O'Connor, "although it is the first time I have seen
such an illustration of it as you present in your own person."

"I wish you would advise me how to act," said Neal; "I'm as happy as
a prince since I began to get fond o' them an' to think o' marriage."

The schoolmaster shook his head again, and looked rather miserable.
Neal rubbed his hands with glee, and looked perfectly happy. The
schoolmaster shook his head again, and looked more miserable than
before. Neal's happiness also increased on the second rubbing.

Now, to tell the secret at once, Mr. O'Connor would not have appeared
so miserable were it not for Neal's happiness; nor Neal so happy
were it not for Mr. O'Connor's misery. It was all the result of
contrast; but this you will not understand unless you be deeply
read in modern novels.

Mr. O'Connor, however, was a man of sense, who knew, upon this
principle, that the longer he continued to shake his head the more