Let us take Bettina." I sprang at that proposal and did not spring back.

So we went first to my uncle, who said he would go with us, and then we went to see Bettina.

She had recovered from her sprains and bruises, although she was still pale and not quite strong.
When Frances asked her to go with us, she answered, "Ay, gladly, if father consents." Pickering, who was sitting with us at the time in Bettina's cozy parlor, turned to me, laughing, and said:-- "You would suppose, from Betty's remark, that I am master here, but the truth is my soul is not my own, and now her modest request for permission is made for effect on the company." Betty ran to her father, sat on his knee, twined her arm about his neck, and kissed him as a protest against the unjust insinuation.
"You see how she does it," said Pickering.

"No hammer and tongs for Betty; just oil and honey." "And lots and lots of love, father," interrupted Betty.
* * * * * Well, our journey was soon arranged on a grand scale.

Pickering lent us his new coach, just home from the makers in Cow Street.