"Oh, dear me, I neber heerd sich audacious nonsense!" said Clo.
"It's true," answered Dolf, "an' yer knows it. But ye're received in dat man, Miss Clorindy, yer is! He's got both eyes fixed on de glitterin' dross. I've heerd him talk 'bout de fortin yer had, an' how it wud set a pusson up, an' what good he might do wid it 'mong de heathen."
Clo gave another scream, but this time it was a cry of indignation and wrath.
"Spend my money 'mong de heathen!" she cried. "I'd like to see him do it! comes 'bout me I'll pull his old wool fur him, I will."
Dolf smiled at the success of his falsehood, and made ready to clench the nail after driving it in.
"Dat's what he tinks anyhow. Why, Miss Clorindy, he was a tryin' ter find out jist how much yer was wuth."
"'Taint nobody's business but my own," cried Clo, angrily, "folks needn't be a pumpin' me; 'taint no use."
"Jis' what I've allers said," remarked Dolf, with great earnestness; "sich secrets, says I, is Miss Clorindy's own."
"Yes, dey be," said Clo, holding on to the sides of her stool as tightly as if it had been the box which contained her treasures.
"I've said sometimes," continued Dolf, "dat if de day shud eber come when dat parathon ob her sex made up her mind ter gib her loved hand to some true bussom, she'd probably whisper musical in his ear de secret she has kept from all de wuld."