So, now, cheer up; don't cry;" and Mrs.Willoughby tried to wipe Minnie's eyes.
"But you're treating me just like a baby, and I don't want to be talked to so," said Minnie, fretfully.
Mrs.Willoughby retreated with a look of despair.
"Well, then, dear, I'll do just whatever you want me to do." "Well, then, I want you to tell me what I am to do." "About what ?" "Why, about this great, big, horrid man." "I thought you didn't want me to talk about this any more." "But I _do_ want you to talk about it.

You're the only person that I've got to talk to about it; nobody else knows how peculiarly I'm situated; and I didn't think that you'd give me up because I had fresh troubles." "Give you up, darling!" echoed her sister, in surprise.
"You said you wouldn't talk about it any more." "But I thought you didn't want me to talk about it." "But I _do_ want you to." "Very well, then; and now I want you first of all, darling, to tell me how you happened to get into such danger." "Well, you know," began Minnie, who now seemed calmer--"you know we all went out for a drive.

And we drove along for miles.

Such a drive! There were lazaroni, and donkeys, and caleches with as many as twenty in each, all pulled by one poor horse, and it's a great shame; and pigs--oh, _such_ pigs! Not a particle of hair on them, you know, and looking like young elephants, you know; and we saw great droves of oxen, and long lines of booths, no end; and people selling macaroni, and other people eating it right in the open street, you know--such fun!--and fishermen and fish-wives.

Oh, how they _were_ screaming, and oh, _such_ a hubbub as there was! and we couldn't go on fast, and Dowdy seemed really frightened." "Dowdy ?" repeated Mrs.Willoughby, in an interrogative tone.
"Oh, that's a name I've just invented for Lady Dalrymple.