"And why should they quarrel, Jeannette? It's very foolish."
"I don't know about being foolish, ma'am; but it's the most natural thing in life. If I had two beaux as was a-courting me together, in course I should expect as they would punch each other's heads. There's some girls do it a purpose, because they like to see it. One at a time's what I say."
"You're a young thing, Jeannette."
"Well, ma'am—yes; I am young, no doubt. But I won't say but what I've had a beau, young as I look."
"But you don't suppose that I want beaux, as you call them?"
"I don't know, ma'am, as you wants 'em exactly. That's as may be. There they are; and if they was to blow each other's brains out in the gig to-night, I shouldn't be a bit surprised for one. There's nothing won't quiet them at Oileymead to-night, if brandy-and-water don't do it." As she said this, Jeannette slipt into her chair, and held up her hands in token of the intensity of her fears.
"Why, you silly child, they're not going home together at all. Did not the Captain go away first?"
"The Captain did go away first, certainly; but I thought perhaps it was to get his pistols and fighting things ready."
"They won't fight, Jeannette. Gentlemen have given over fighting."
"Have they, ma'am? That makes it much easier for ladies, no doubt. Perhaps them peaceable ways will come down to such as us in time. It'd be a comfort, I know, to them as are quiet given, like me. I hate to see men knocking each other's heads about,—I do. So Mr. Cheesacre and the Captain won't fight, ma'am?"