“I don't think you do, Tom,” said he, smiling.
“You were thinking of buying that mountain yonder. You were saying to yourself, 'I 'll be the owner of that beech wood before I'm a month older!'”
“Upon my life, you 're right! though I have n't the remotest notion of how you guessed it. The old fellow that owns it shall name his own terms to-morrow morning. Here come the girls, and they 've got Tom Dill with them. How the fellow rows! and Fifine is laughing away at Conyers's attempt to keep the boat straight. Look at Hunter, too; he 's off to meet them. Is he 'going in' for the great heiress prize, eh, Tom?” said he, with a knowing smile.
Though Hunter assisted the ladies to land with becoming gallantry, he did not offer his arm to Josephine, but dropped behind, where Tom Dill brought up the rear with his sister.
“We have no confidences that you may not listen to,” said Polly, as she saw that he hesitated as to joining them. “Tom, indeed, has been telling of yourself, and you may not care to hear your own praises.”
“If they come from you, I 'm all ears for them.”
“Isn't that pretty, Tom? Did you ever hear any one ask more candidly for—no, not flattery—what is it to be called?”
Tom, however, could not answer, for he had stopped to shake hands with Darby, whose “May I never!” had just arrested him.
“What an honest, fine-hearted fellow it is!” said Hunter, as they moved on, leaving Tom behind.
“But if you had n't found it out, who would have known, or who acknowledged it? I know—for he has told me—all you have been to him.”