"I should prefer a
Clawbonny potatoe, to a New York peach!"
Grace smiled, and, as soon as Lucy's animation had a little subsided,
_she_ blushed.
"How much better would it be, Miles," my sister resumed, "could you be
induced to think and feel with us, and quit the seas, to come and live
for the rest of your days on the spot where your fathers have so long
lived before you. Would it not, Lucy?"
"Miles will never do _that_," Lucy answered, with emphasis. "Men
are not like us females who love everything we love at all, with our
whole hearts. Men prefer wandering about, and being shipwrecked, and
left on desert islands, to remaining quietly at home, on their own
farms. No, no; you'll never persuade Miles to do _that_."
"I am not astonished my brother thinks desert islands such pleasant
abodes, when he can find companions like Miss Merton on them."
"You will remember, sister of mine, in the first place, that Marble
Land is very far from being a desert island at all; and, in the next,
that I first found Miss Merton in Hyde Park, London; almost in the
canal, for that matter."
"I think it a little odd that Miles never told us all about this, in
his letters, at the time, Lucy. When young gentlemen drag young ladies
out of canals, their friends at home have a right to know something of
the matter.
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