Not when I've come down here before breakfast to ask you? Why
can't you?" Charmian wailed.

"Because Mr. Ludlow was here last night, and asked me to do it."

"He _did_? Then I am the happiest girl in the world! Let me embrace
you, Cornelia!"

"Don't be--disgusting!" said Cornelia, but she felt that Charmian was
generously glad of the honor done her, and that she had wronged her by
suspecting her of a wish to show power over Mr. Ludlow. "I told him I
couldn't, and I can't, because it would have seemed to be making use of
you, and--and--you wouldn't like it, and I wouldn't like it in your
place, and--I wouldn't do it. And I should have to tell you that he
proposed it, and that you would perfectly hate it."

"When it was the very first thing I thought of? Let me embrace you
again, Cornelia Saunders, you adorable wooden image! Why his proposing
it makes it perfectly divine, and relieves me of all responsibility.
Oh, I would come down here every _day_ before breakfast a whole week,
for a moment like this! Then it's all settled; and we will send him
word that we will begin to-morrow afternoon. Let's discuss the
character you will do me in. I want you to paint me in character--both
of you--something allegorical or mythical. Or perhaps you're hungry,
too! And I've eaten every one of the snaps."

"No, I can't do it," Cornelia still protested; but the reasons why she
could not, seemed to have escaped her, or to have turned into mere
excuses. In fact, since Charmian had proposed it, and seemed to wish
it, they were really no longer reasons. Cornelia alleged them again
with a sense of their fatuity. She did not finally assent; she did not
finally refuse; but she felt that she was very weak.

"I see what you're thinking about," said Charmian, "but you needn't be
afraid. I shall not show anything out. I shall be a perfect--tomb."

"What do you mean?" demanded Cornelia, with a vexation heightened by
the sense of her own insincerity.

"Oh, _you_ know what. But from this time forth _I_ don't. It will be
glorious not to let myself realize it. I shall just sit and think up
conundrums, and not hear, or see, or dream anything. Yes, I can do it,
and it will be splendid practice. This is the way I shall look." She
took a pose in Cornelia's one chair, and put on an air of impenetrable
mystery, which she relinquished a moment to explain, "Of course this
back is rather too stiff and straight; I shall be more crouching." She
pushed a gin