He daren't quarrel with me: and if he does, let him look to himself. “We settled long ago—we’re hard stuff. He talked in the same style, and pretty nearly in the same language; laughed in the same manner, and coughed, or sneezed at the same time. At last he took up his thoughts again: “I wonder if, some day, one won’t need to rebel against customs and laws? If this discord will have gone? Some day, perhaps—who knows?—the old won’t coddle and hamper the young, and the young won’t need to fly in the faces of the old. . ’ ‘Is it, now? Well you won’t, then, for he won’t hear nothing, missie. I suppose most of our daughters would marry organ-grinders if they had a chance—at that age. “She has improved her style,” someone declared.
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