to his wife, "Should you like to go down into Connecticut?"
"Into Connecticut?"
"That 's one of our States; it 's about as large as Ireland. I 'll take you there if you like."
"What does one do there?"
"We can try and get some hunting."
"You and I alone?"
"Perhaps we can get a party to join us."
"The people in the State?"
"Yes; we might propose it to them."
"The tradespeople in the towns?"
"Very true; they will have to mind their shops," said Jackson Lemon. "But we might hunt alone."
"Are there any foxes?"
"No; but there are a few old cows."
Lady Barb had already perceived that her husband took it into his head once in a while to laugh at her, and she was aware that the present occasion was neither worse nor better than some others. She did n't mind it particularly now, though in England it would have disgusted her; she had the consciousness of virtue,—an immense comfort,—and flattered herself that she had learned the lesson of an altered standard of fitness; there were, moreover, so many more disagreeable things in America than being laughed at by one's husband. But she pretended to mind it, because it made him stop, and above all it stopped discussion, which with Jackson was so often jocular, and none the less tiresome for that. "I only want to be left
