I'se de wuss dress somebody dis yer side er de po' w'ite
trash. Wat's de use er bein' de quality ef'n you ain' got de close?"
"Stop grumbling, you fool you," returned Dan, with his lordly air. "If it's
my second best evening suit you're after, you may take it; but I tell you
now, it's the last thing you're going to get out of me till summer."
Big Abel took down the second best suit of clothes and examined them with
an interest they had never inspired before. "I d'clar you sutney does set
hard," he remarked after a moment, and added, tentatively, "I dunno whar de
shuts gwine come f'om."
"Not from me," replied Dan, airily; "and now get out of here, for I'm going
to sleep."
But when he threw himself upon his bed it was to toss with feverish
rose-coloured dreams until the daybreak.
His blood was still warm when he came down to breakfast; but he met his
grandfather's genial jests with a boyish attempt at counter-buff.
"Oh, you needn't twit me, sir," he said with an embarrassed laugh; "to wear
the heart upon the sleeve is hereditary with us, you know."
"Keep clear of the daws, my son, and it does no harm," responded the Major.
"There's nothing so becoming to a gentleman as a fine heart well worn, eh,
Molly?"
He carefully spread the butter upon his cakes, for his day of love-making
was over, and his eye could hold its twinkle while he watched Dan fidget in
his seat.
Mrs. Lightfoot promptly took up the challenge.
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