“Why?”
“Why! Why, because it is very necessary that you should give him no encouragement of any kind. He is not a desirable match for you. Besides, you owe it to your family now to offer every opportunity to Achilles Smith. Mr. Smith worships you!”
“And I hate him,” said Pandora, vigorously.
“Hate him, my child? Why, how absurd! Mr. Smith is a very charming man, and when he gets his Pottawatomie claim through Congress, he will be rich.”
“He will never get it through; and I won’t have him, if he does!”
“Never get it through, Pandora! Didn’t General Belcher, the member for the ninety-sixth Kansas district, and his bosom friend, assure me positively that it would be approved during the present session?”
“His claim is ridiculous. Congress will never allow it.”
“My dear! Pray don’t be absurd! His claim is quite as reasonable as thousands of similar claims. The Pottawatomie Indians scalped him in 1862, and he very properly asks the legislature of his country to compel the savages to make reparation by surrendering two million acres of their reservation. I cannot see anything ridiculous about that. If he succeeds, he will be the largest individual land-owner in the West.”
“If he succeeds!”
“But General Belcher, who is pushing his case in Congress, and who is to share the property with him, positively declares that he will succeed. The General, also, makes your acceptance of Achilles the condition of his championship of your picture. He says that Congress shall buy that picture upon the day that you marry Achilles Smith!”