Campbell: "How can I tell which are the men's without opening them?"

Mrs. Campbell: "How could you tell which were the ladies'? Come, now,
Willis, don't tease me any longer. You know I hate it."

Campbell, studying the superscriptions, one after another: "I want to
see if I can guess who wrote them. Don't you like to guess who wrote
your letters before you open them?"

Mrs. Campbell, with dignity: "I don't like to guess who wrote other
people's letters." She looks down at the table-cloth with a menace of
tears, and Campbell instantly returns all the notes.

Campbell: "There, Amy; you may have them. I don't care who wrote them,
nor what's in them. And I don't want you to interrupt me with any
exclamations over them, if you please." He reaches to the floor for his
newspaper, and while he sips his coffee, Mrs. Campbell loses no time in
opening her letters.

Mrs. Campbell: "I shall do nothing _but_ exclaim. The Curwens accept, of
course--the very first letter. That means Mrs. Curwen; that is one, at
any rate. The New York Addingses do, and the Philadelphia Addingses
don't; I hardly expected they would, so soon after their aunt's death,
but I thought I ought to ask them. Mr. and Mrs. Roberts, naturally; it
was more a joke than anything, sending their invitation. Mrs. and the
Misses Carver regret very much; well, _I_ don't. Professor and Mrs.
Traine are very happy, and so am I; he doesn't go everywhere, and he's
awfully nice. Mr. and Mrs. Lou Bemis are very happy, too, and Dr. Lawton
is very happy. Mrs. Bridges Dear Mrs. Campbells me, and is very sorry in
the first person; she's always nice. Mr. Phillips, Mr. Rangeley, Mr.
Small, Mr. Peters, Mr. Staples, Mr. Thornton, _all_ accept, and they're
all charming young fellows."

Campbell, around his paper: "Well, what of that?"

Mrs. Campbell, with an air of busy preoccupation: "Don't eavesdrop,
please; I wasn't talking to you. The Merrills have the pleasure, and the
Morgans are sorrow-stricken; the--"

Campbell: "Yes, but why should you care whether those fellows are
charming or not? Who's going to marry them?"

Mrs. Campbell: "_I_ am. Mrs. Stevenson is bowed to the earth; Colonel
Murphree is overjoyed; the Misses Ja--"

Campbell, putting his paper down: "Look here, Amy. Do you know that you
have one little infinitesimal ewe-lamb of a foible? You think too much
of young men."

Mrs. Campbell: "_Younger_ men, you mean. And _you_ have a multitude of
perfectly mammot