'Don't go on like that; you worry me,' returned his bride.

The lovely bride of Tinkling echoed the incredible declaration.
The two warriors exchanged stony glances.

'If,' said the bride of the pirate-colonel, 'grown-up people WON'T
do what they ought to do, and WILL put us out, what comes of our
pretending?'

'We only get into scrapes,' said the bride of Tinkling.

'You know very well,' pursued the colonel's bride, 'that Miss
Drowvey wouldn't fall.  You complained of it yourself.  And you
know how disgracefully the court-martial ended.  As to our
marriage; would my people acknowledge it at home?'

'Or would my people acknowledge ours?' said the bride of Tinkling.

Again the two warriors exchanged stony glances.

'If you knocked at the door and claimed me, after you were told to
go away,' said the colonel's bride, 'you would only have your hair
pulled, or your ears, or your nose.'

'If you persisted in ringing at the bell and claiming me,' said the
bride of Tinkling to that gentleman, 'you would have things dropped
on your head from the window over the handle, or you would be
played upon by the garden-engine.'

'And at your own homes,' resumed the bride of the colonel, 'it
would be just as bad.  You would be sent to bed, or something
equally undignified.  Again, how would you support us?'

The pirate-colonel replied in a courageous voice, 'By rapine!'  But
his bride retorted, 'Suppose the grown-up people wouldn't be
rapined?'  'Then,' said the colonel, 'they should pay the penalty
in blood.' - 'But suppose they should object,' retorted his bride,
'and wouldn't pay the penalty in blood or anything else?'

A mournful silence ensued.

'Then do you no longer love me, Alice?' asked the colonel.

'Redforth!  I am ever thine,' returned his bride.

'Then do you no longer love me, Nettie?' asked the present writer.

'Tinkling!  I am ever thine,' returned my bride.

We all four embraced.  Let me not be misunderstood by the giddy.
The colonel embraced his own bride, and I embraced mine.  But two
times two make four.

'Nettie and I,' said Alice mournfully, 'have been considering our
position.  The grown-up people are too strong for us.  They make us
ridiculous.  Besides, they have changed the times.  William
Tinkling's baby brother was christened yesterday.  What took place?
Was any king present?  Answer, William.'

I said No, unless disguised as Great-uncle Chopper.

'Any queen?'

There had been no queen that I knew of at our house.  There might
have been one in the kitchen: but I didn't think so, or the
servants would have mentioned it.

'Any fairies?'

None that were visible.

'We had an idea among us, I think,' said Alice, with a melancholy
smile, 'we four, that Miss Grimmer would prove to be the wicked
fairy, and would come in at the christening with her crutch-stick,
and give the child a bad gift.  Was there anything of that sort?
Answer, William.'

I said that ma had said afterwards (and so she had), that Great-
uncle Chopper's gift was a shabby one; but she hadn't said a bad
one.  She had called it shabby, electrotyped, second-hand, and
below his income.

'It must be the grown-up people who have changed all this,' said
Alice.  'WE couldn't have changed it, if we had been so inclined,
and we never should have been.  Or perhaps Miss Grimmer IS a wicked
fairy after all, and won't act up to it because the grown-up people
have persuaded her not to.  Either way, they would make us
ridiculous if we told them what we expected.'

'Tyrants!' muttered the pirate-colonel.

'Nay, my Redforth,' said Alice, 'say not so.  Call not names, my
Redforth, or they will apply to pa.'

'Let 'em,' said the colonel.  'I do not care.  Who's he?'

Tinkling here undertook the perilous task of remonstrating with his
lawless friend, who consented to withdraw the moody expressions
above quoted.