"No, it isn't nahsty."
"It's oful nahsty, Neddy, and I shanh't drink it."
|I'M OFUL DRY.|
Then the question was, what she must have. She said he knew very well that she never drank anything but champaign. She added,—
"You know very well papa always has champaign on his table, and I've always been used to it."
Neddy made a playful pretense of being distressed about the expense, and this amused her so much that she nearly exhausted herself with laughter,—and this pleased him so much that he repeated his jest a couple of times, and added new and killing varieties to it. When the bride finally recovered, she gave Neddy a love-box on the arm with her fan, and said with arch severity,—
"Well, you would have me,—nothing else would do,—so you'll have to make the best of a bad bargain. Do order the champaign, I'm oful dry."
So with a mock groan which made her laugh again, Neddy ordered the champaign.
The fact that this young woman had never moistened the selvedge edge of her soul with a less plebeian tipple than champaign, had a marked and subduing effect upon Harris. He believed she belonged to the royal family. But I had my doubts.