“I am sure I can never be sufficiently thankful to you, Mr. Jamblin,” he ejaculated.
“Nonsense, lad. Haven’t we known each other for years and years? The Jamblins and Ashbrooks ha’ been staunch friends for more than half a century. Your poor fayther and myself went to school together when mere yonkers—and that be a few weeks ago,” cried Jamblin, bursting out into a loud guffaw; “only a few weeks ago, John.”
“Ah, sir, time runs on pretty fast with most of us; and what appears but a few months or years perhaps bridges over a long gap in a man’s lifetime.”
“That be true, lad. Well, as I was a sayin’, the Jamblins and Ashbrooks ha’ bin firm friends for more than a lifetime, and setting aside Patty, I’ve neither chick nor child, and therefore she be my only consideration. Mek her a good husband, John, and I be sartin sure she’ll mek you a good wife; and so, lad, we ha’ a clear understanding. There, boy, my hand on it!”
The two friends shook hands once more, and they drank each other’s health in some whiskey toddy, and did not retire to rest till an unusually late hour.
Patty Jamblin returned on the following day, and after a cordial greeting the old farmer went abroad in the fields, leaving the lovers to themselves.
“I expect you and father have been enjoying yourselves to your hearts’ content during my absence,” said Patty to John Ashbrook.
“We’ve made ourselves as contented as we could under the circumstances,” returned Ashbrook.
“Ah—so I should suppose. You can do very well without me, you two cronies.”
“Indeed, we cannot, neither of us. But we have touched on a question during your absence which concerns both of us. Oh, Patty! I am thankful and grateful to Providence that we have spoken so freely to one another.”