′You give me an affectionate reception, Pussy, I must say.′
′Well, I will in a minute, Eddy, but I can′t just yet. How are you?′ (very shortly.)
′I am unable to reply that I am much the better for seeing you, Pussy, inasmuch as I see nothing of you.′
This second remonstrance brings a dark, bright, pouting eye out from a corner of the apron; but it swiftly becomes invisible again, as the apparition exclaims: ′O good gracious! you have had half your hair cut off!′
′I should have done better to have had my head cut off, I think,′ says Edwin, rumpling the hair in question, with a fierce glance at the looking-glass, and giving an impatient stamp. ′Shall I go?′
′No; you needn′t go just yet, Eddy. The girls would all be asking questions why you went.′
′Once for all, Rosa, will you uncover that ridiculous little head of yours and give me a welcome?′
The apron is pulled off the childish head, as its wearer replies: ′You′re very welcome, Eddy. There! I′m sure that′s nice. Shake hands. No, I can′t kiss you, because I′ve got an acidulated drop in my mouth.′
′Are you at all glad to see me, Pussy?′
′O, yes, I′m dreadfully glad.—Go and sit down.—Miss Twinkleton.′
It is the custom of that excellent lady when these visits occur, to appear every three minutes, either in her own person or in that of Mrs. Tisher, and lay an offering on the shrine of Propriety by affecting to look for some desiderated article. On the present occasion Miss Twinkleton, gracefully gliding in and out, says in passing: ′How do you do, Mr. Drood? Very glad indeed to have the pleasure. Pray excuse me. Tweezers. Thank you!′
′I got the gloves last evening, Eddy, and I like them very much. They are beauties.′
′Well, that′s something,′ the affianced replies, half grumbling. ′The smallest encouragement thankfully received. And how did you pass your birthday, Pussy?′
′Delightfully! Everybody gave me a present. And we had a feast. And we had a ball at night.′
′A feast and a ball, eh? These occasions seem to go off tolerably well without me, Pussy.′
′De-lightfully!′ cries Rosa, in a quite spontaneous manner, and without the least pretence of reserve.
′Hah! And what was the feast?′
′Tarts, oranges, jellies, and shrimps.′
′Any partners at the ball?′
′We danced with one another, of course, sir. But some of the girls made game to be their brothers. It WAS so droll!′
′Did anybody make game to be—′
′To be you? O dear yes!′ cries Rosa, laughing with great enjoyment. ′That was the first thing done.′
′I hope she did it pretty well,′ says Edwin rather doubtfully.
′O, it was excellent!—I wouldn′t dance with you, you know.′
Edwin scarcely seems to see the force of this; begs to know if he may take the liberty to ask why?
′Because I was so tired of you,′ returns Rosa. But she quickly adds, and pleadingly too, seeing displeasure in his face: ′Dear Eddy, you were just as tired of me, you know.′
′Did I say so, Rosa?′
′Say so! Do you ever say so? No, you only showed it. O, she did it so well!′ cries Rosa, in a sudden ecstasy with her counterfeit betrothed.
′It strikes me that she must be a devilish impudent girl,′ says Edwin Drood. ′And so, Pussy, you have passed your last birthday in this old house.
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