"Tell you everything," he repeated thoughtfully. "Not all, little
Melody. I've seen some things that you wouldn't like to hear
about,--things that would grieve your tender heart more than a little.
We will not talk about those; but I have seen bright things too, sure
enough. Why, only day before yesterday I was at a wedding, over in
Pegrum; a pretty wedding it was too. You remember Myra Bassett, Miss
Vesta?"

"To be sure I do," replied Miss Vesta. "She married John Andrews, her
father's second cousin once removed. Don't tell me that Myra has a
daughter old enough to be married: Or is it a son? either way, it is
ridiculous."

"A daughter!" said the old man,--"the prettiest girl in Pegrum. Like a
ripe chestnut, more than anything. Two lads were in love with her;
there may have been a dozen, but these two I know about. One of
them--I'll name no names, 'tis kinder not--found that she wanted to
marry a hero (what girl does not?), so he thought he would try his
hand at heroism. There was a picnic this spring, and he hired a boy
(or so the boy says--it may be wicked gossip) to upset the boat she
was in, so that he, the lover, might save her life. But, lo and
behold! he was taken with a cramp in the water, and was almost
drowned, and the second lover jumped in, and saved them both. So she
married the second (whom she had liked all along), and then the boy
told his story."

"Miserable sneak!" ejaculated Miss Vesta. "To risk the life of the
woman he pretended to love, just to show himself off."