CHAPTER XIV.
_A GREAT MORAL CONFLICT_.
"Now, John dear, I have something very particular that I want you to promise me," said Mrs.Lillie, a day or two after the scenes last recorded.

Our Lillie had recovered her spirits, and got over her headache, and had come down and done her best to be delightful; and when a very pretty woman, who has all her life studied the art of pleasing, does that, she generally succeeds.
John thought to himself he "didn't care _what_ she was, he loved her;" and that she certainly was the prettiest, most bewitching little creature on earth.

He flung his sighs and his doubts and fears to the wind, and suffered himself to be coaxed, and cajoled, and led captive, in the most amiable manner possible.
His fair one had a point to carry,--a point that instinct told her was to be managed with great adroitness.
"Well," said John, over his newspaper, "what is this something so very particular ?" "First, sir, put down that paper, and listen to me," said Mrs.Lillie, coming up and seating herself on his knee, and sweeping down the offending paper with an air of authority.
"Yes'm," said John, submissively.

"Let's see,--how was that in the marriage service?
I promised to obey, didn't I ?" "Of course you did; that service is always interpreted by contraries,--ever since Eve made Adam mind her in the beginning," said Mrs.Lillie, laughing.
"And got things into a pretty mess in that way," said John; "but come, now, what is it ?" "Well, John, you know the Follingsbees are coming next week ?" "I know it," said John, looking amiable and conciliatory.
"Well, dear, there are some things about our establishment that are not just as I should feel pleased to receive them to." "Ah!" said John; "why, Lillie, I thought we were fine as a fiddle, from the top of the house to the bottom." '"Oh! it's not the house; the house is splendid.

I shouldn't be in the least ashamed to show it to anybody; but about the table arrangements." "Now, really, Lillie, what can one have more than real old china and heavy silver plate?
I rather pique myself on that; I think it has quite a good, rich, solid old air." "Well, John, to say the truth, why do we never have any wine?
I don't care for it,--I never drink it; but the decanters, and the different colored glasses, and all the apparatus, are such an adornment; and then the Follingsbees are such judges of wine.