“You would more probably have gone to the guillotine,' replied Sir Tristram, depressingly matter of fact.'Yes, that is quite true,' agreed Eustacie. 'We used to talk of it, my cousin Henriette and I. We made up our minds we should be entirely brave, not crying, of course, but perhaps a little pale, in a proud way. Henriette wished to go to the guillotine en grande tenue, but that was only because she had a court dress of yellow satin which she thought became her much better than it did really. For me, I think one should wear white to the guillotine if one is quite young, and not carry anything except perhaps a handkerchief. Do you not agree?''I don't think it signifies what you wear if you are on your way to the scaffold,' replied Sir Tristram, quite unappreciative of the picture his cousin was dwelling on with such evident admiration.She looked at him in surprise. 'Don't you? But consider! You would be very sorry for a young girl in a tumbril, dressed all in white, pale, but quite unafraid, and not attending to the canaille at all, but--''I should be very sorry for anyone in a tumbril, whatever their age or sex or apparel,' interrupted Sir Tristram.'You would be more sorry for a young girl--all alone, and perhaps bound,' said Eustacie positively.'You wouldn't be all alone. There would be a great many other people in the tumbril with you,' said Sir Tristram.Eustacie eyed him with considerable displeasure. 'In my tumbril there would not have been a great many other people,' she said.”

“What, sir, would you think of a member of the Weaker Sex who assumed the guise of a man, and left the home of her natural protector by way of the window?""I should assume," replied Sir Richard, "that she had strong reasons for acting with such resolution.""She did not wish to marry me," said Mr. Griffin gloomily."Oh!" said Sir Richard."Well, I'm sure I can't see why she should be so set against me, but that's not it, sir. The thing is that here's my mother determined to find her, and to make her marry me, and so hush up the scandal. But I don't like it above half. If she dislikes the notion so much, I don't think I ought to marry her, do you?""Emphatically not!""I must say I am very glad to hear you say that, Sir Richard!" said Mr. Griffin, much cheered. "For you must know that my mother has been telling me ever since yesterday that I must marry her now, to save her name. But I think she would very likely make me uncomfortable, and nothing could make up for that, in my opinion.""A lady capable of escaping out of a window in the guise of a a man would quite certainly make you more than uncomfortable," said Sir Richard."Yes, though she's only a chit of a girl, you know. In fact, she is not yet out. I am very happy to have had the benefit of the opinion of a Man of the World. I feel that I can rely on your judgment.""On my judgment, you might, but in nothing else, I assure you," said Sir Richard. "You know nothing of me, after all. How do you know that I am not now concealing your cousin from you?""Ha-ha! Very good, upon my word! Very good, indeed!" said Mr. Griffin, saluting a jest of the first water.”

“Were you locked in your room?" enquired Sir Richard."Oh no! I daresay I should have been if Aunt had guessed what I meant to do, but she would never think of such a thing.""Then--forgive my curiosity!--why did you climb out of the window?" asked Sir Richard."Oh, that was on account of Pug!" replied Pen sunnily."Pug?""Yes, a horrid little creature! He sleeps in a basket in the hall, and he always yaps if he thinks one is going out. That would have awakened Aunt Almeria. There was nothing else I could do."Sir Richard regarded her with a lurking smile. "Naturally not. Do you know, Pen, I owe you a debt of gratitude?""Oh!" she said again. "Do you mean that I don't behave as a delicately bred femaile should?""That is one way of putting it, certainly.""It is the way Aunt Almeria puts it.""She would, of course.""I am afraid," confessed Pen, "that I am not very well-behaved. Aunt says that I had a lamentable upbringing, because my father treated me as though I had been a boy. I ought to have been, you understand.""I cannot agree with you," said Sir Richard. "As a boy you would have been in no way remarkable; as a female, believe me, you are unique."She flushed to the roots of her hair. "I think that is a compliment.""It is," Sir Richard said, amused."Well, I wasn't sure, because I am not out yet, and I do not know any men except my uncle and Fred, and they don't pay compliments. That is to say, not like that.”

“Are you thankful for not being young?''Yes, sir. If I was young, it would all have to be gone through again, and the end would be a weary way off, don't you see?...”

“As to animals," said the Count unexpectedly, "whatever one says, I maintain that the rodent family has a certain charm about it.""The rodent family . . . ?" replied the Baron, not getting the drift at all."Rabbits, marmots, squirrels, and the like.""You have pets of that sort, sir?""No, sir, not at all. Too much of an odor. It would be all over the house.""Ah, I see. Very charming, but you wouldn't have them in the house, is that it?" "Well, sir, in the first place, they seem to have been ignored by the poets, d'you see. And what has no place in a poem has no place in my house. That's my family rule.""I see.""No, I don't keep them as pets. But they're such fuzzy, timid little creatures that I can't help thinking there's no more charming animal.""Yes, Count, I quite agree.""Actually, sir, every charming creature, no matter what sort, seems to have a strong odor.""Yes, indeed, sir. I believe one might say so.”

“A young apprentice applied to a master carpenter for a job. The older man asked him, "Do you know your trade?" "Yes, sir!" the young man replied proudly. "Have you ever made a mistake?" the older man inquired. "No, sir!" the young man answered, feeling certain he would get the job. "Then there's no way I'm going to hire you," said the master carpenter, "because when you make one, you won't know how to fix it.”