Two beauties in
one family--that was something to be proud of even in Virginia.
It was at this romantic point that Champe shattered his visions by shooting
a jest at him about the "love sick swain."
"Oh, be off, and let a fellow think, won't you?" he retorted angrily.
"Do you hear him call it thinking?" jeered Diggs, from the other side.
"He doesn't call it mooning, oh, no," scoffed Champe.
"Oh, there's nothing half so sweet in life," sang Morson, striking an
attitude that almost threw him off his horse.
"Shut up, Morson," commanded Diggs, "you ought to be thankful if you had
enough sense left to moon with."
"Sense, who wants sense?" inquired Morson, on the point of tears. "I have
heart, sir."
"Then keep it bottled up," rejoined Champe, coolly, as they turned into the
drive at Chericoke.
In Dan's room they found Big Abel stretched before the fire asleep; and as
the young men came in, he sat up and rubbed his eyes.
"Hi! young Marsters, hit's ter-morrow!" he exclaimed.
"To-morrow! I wish it were to-morrow," responded Dan, cheerfully. "The fire
makes my head spin like a top. Here, come and pull off my coat, Big Abel,
or I'll have to go to bed with my clothes on."
Big Abel pulled off the coat and brushed it carefully; then he held out his
hand for Champe's.
"I hope dis yer coat ain' gwine lose hit's set 'fo' hit gits ter me," he
muttered as he hung them up. "Seems like you don' teck no cyar yo' clothes,
nohow, Marse Dan.
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