"Why, good-night, Dick. This is late to be out. Anything going wrong?"
"Wrong!" said the other, hoarsely. "Yes, wrong enough to cost a man his life some day. Go up yonder, and ask your daughter Ruth what it is. She'll tell, no doubt—ask her!"
Richard Storms, after flinging these words at his father's friend, attempted to push by him on the path; but Jessup stood resolutely in his way.
"What is all this, my lad? Nay, now, you haven't been to the cottage while I was away, and frightened the girl about what we were talking of. I should take that unfriendly, Dick. Our Ruth is a bit dainty, and should have had time to think over such matters."
"Dainty! I should think so. She looks high in her sweethearting; I must say that for her."
"What is it you are saying of my daughter?" cried Jessup, doubling his great brown fist, unconsciously.
"I say that a man like me has a chance of getting more kicks than kisses when he seeks her," answered Dick, with a sneer.
"And serves him right, if he dared to ask such things of her mother's child," said Jessup, growing angry.
"But what if he only asked, honest fashion, for an honest wife, as I did, and got kicks in return?"
"Kicks! Why, man, who was there to give them, and I away?" questioned the gardener, astonished.