give you a pair of 2.40 steppers and a skeleton buggy to meet you at the
top of the hill and drive you over to the cabin. Perhaps you'd prefer
a regular carriage; some ladies do. And a nigger driver. But what's the
use of planning anything? Afore that time comes we'll have run you up
a house on the hill, and you shall pick out the spot. It wouldn't take
long--unless you preferred brick. I suppose we could get brick over from
La Grange, if you cared for it, but it would take longer. If you
could put up for a time with something of stained glass and a mahogany
veranda--"

In spite of her cold indignation, and the fact that she could understand
only a part of Mattingly's speech, Christie comprehended enough to make
her lift her clear eyes to the speaker, as she replied freezingly that
she feared she would not trouble them long with her company.

"Oh, you'll get over that," responded Mattingly, with an exasperating
confidence that drove her nearly frantic, from the manifest kindliness
of intent that made it impossible for her to resent it. "I felt that way
myself at first. Things will look strange and unsociable for a while,
until you get the hang of them. You'll naturally stamp round and cuss a
little--" He stopped in conscious consternation.

With ready tact, and before Christie could reply, Maryland Joe had put
down the trunk and changed hands with his brother.

"You mustn't mind Dick, or he'll go off and kill himself with shame," he
whispered laughingly in her ear. "He means all right, but he's picked
up so much slang here that he's about forgotten how to talk English, and
it's nigh on to four years since he's met a young lady."