Miss Erroll, thus rebuffed, set down the little mastiff on the floor, and pushed it with the toe of her riding-boot. One of the characteristics of this young woman was an insatiate desire for the good-will of every one. It was weak, no doubt; but, as the celebrated saying hath it, the weakness was very strong. Somehow it made Mary uncomfortable to think that the overseer’s daughter, humble though her position was, should not succumb to the charm which she chose to exert for her benefit.
The unconscious little peace-offering in the mean time was making abortive efforts to peer into every object out of his reach which the room contained.
A sudden revulsion of feeling came over Virginia, a sense of unnecessary rudeness, and of the uselessness of it all.
“I—I’ll take him, thank you,” she said, stooping and lifting the puppy into her capable young embrace. “I’m mighty glad to have him. He cert’n’y is pretty.”
Poor Virginia! She felt the baldness of these phrases without knowing how to remedy them. “He cert’n’y is cunnin’,” she added.
Mary was much relieved. “I thought you would like him,” she said. “I have named him ‘Mumbo,’ after one of his ancestors. If you don’t like the name, please be sure to change it.”
“Oh, I like it!” said Virginia. “I couldn’t give him a better one to save my life. I kyarn’t never scarsely think o’ names fur the critters on th’ farm. Does he know it yet?”
“Oh no!” Miss Erroll assured her.—“You’ll have to teach him that.”
She looked down intently at one of her gloves, and began to unbutton it. “I suppose you have heard of my engagement?” she said, without looking up.