"Borrow--! I believe you're crazy!"

"No, I'm tolerably sane. There! there! don't look at me like that.
Here's his letter. Read it, if you want to."

Lute's fingers were so eager to grasp that letter that they were all
thumbs. He dropped it on the grass, picked it up with as much care as if
it was a diamond, and holding it a foot from his nose--he had broken
his spectacles and was afraid to ask Dorinda for the money to have them
repaired--he spelt it out to the last word.

"Well, by time!" he exclaimed, when he had finished. "He wants to see
you at his house this forenoon! And--and--why, the forenoon's all but
gone now! What are you settin' here for?"

"Well, I thought I should enjoy watching you rake the yard. It is a
pleasure deferred so far."

"Watchin' me--! Roscoe Paine, you are out of your head! Ain't you goin'
to see him?"

"No."

"You AIN'T!"

"No."

"Ros Paine, have you jined in with them darn fools uptown?"

"Who's swearing now? What fools do you mean?"