Previously in this series: How I would open my letters as a French wastrel and I believe we shall find Papa among the roses.

Fa, Auguste! You will have your own way, then, I see it now! No, no, there’s no use trying to dispute with me.

Tra-la, Auguste! I am determined not to quarrel with you today.

No, no, Auguste! I am fixed on it. No matter the provocation, there shall be no more dissension between us to-day. Come, let us shake hands and go out to the stables together.

Ho-ho, Auguste! How can we quarrel, when you must spur on Hyperion til his flanks heave merely to keep pace with myself and my palfrey, Jessica Lightfoot? You will have too much to do in keeping up!

Catch me if you can, Auguste!

Please, Auguste! You will only hurt me if you carry on in this way. And why should you grieve a friend who loves you so? Aren’t we happy as we are? Terribly, terribly happy?

Pray, Auguste! How can we quarrel when there are so many lovely red apples to pluck at the top of yon tree?

You do not take my arm, Auguste! What fit is this? I shall take my own arm, then, and lead myself into the pic-nic-ing field, though this basket be very heavy for one to carry all oneself. But what care we of baskets, when the sun is shining thus?

Dearest Auguste! You see I have anticipated your objection, and have laid no room for it — so you must remain in charity with me! How merry we all shall be!

Charming Auguste! What might Marie la Pianoforte say to you, could she hear you speak thus! I am convinced she would set you down outright, and remain persuaded you could not bear to see reproof in those laughing eyes.

Watch me skate, Auguste!!! See how much neater my leaps have become since last winter. I am sure I shan’t fall again, so it’s perfectly safe!

I caren’t a fig for that, Auguste!! Nor whit, nor tuppence neither, tra-la, and you may tell Stephen yourself!

Catch me in your strong arms, Auguste! I know I shall find no quarrels there—

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