“I caught some trout awhile ago, and have them ready to broil,” replied Myrtle.
“I cannot consent to allow Miss Myrtle to perform such menial service for me,” said Rafe. “Let me do the cooking, for which such hands were never intended.”
Myrtle broke into a merry laugh. “You betray yourself, Mr. Norris,” she said. “You are a gentleman born and bred, for none of our own mountaineers would object to my cooking a meal for them.”
He looked a little vexed, and she glided away, and Old Pegs sat down on a great rock and signed to his companion to do the same.
“Let me go and assist Miss Myrtle,” said Norris. “It really pains me to suffer her to do such work.”
“Sit down, stranger,” said Old Pegs, shortly. “I won’t hev any one, I don’t keer who he is, try ter make the gal discontented with her life hyar. She’s the darter of a mount’in man, and ef she ever marries—which I hope she won’t—she’ll be the wife of a mount’in man; thet’s ez good ez swore to.”
“I hope you do not doubt me, Mr.—”
“Old Pegs! Thet’s my name—Old Pegs. I don’t want no other handle, and I won’t hev it. Ef I knowed you well I wouldn’t keer so much, but yer a stranger, and so we won’t hev any sort of familiarity until I does know you.”
“You are particular, sir,” replied Norris, knitting his brows. “It is sad that I did not bring my pedigree with me when I came here.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, stranger,” replied Old Pegs, “or we may part company afore you know it. I won’t have no foolishness about hyar ef I know it; no discount on thet ar’.”