“Pooh, pooh! nothing; less than nothing. He owes all that he is to himself. He is one of those fellows who, once they get into the right groove in life, are sure to go ahead. Not even you could make a doctor of him. Nature made him a soldier.”
Polly blushed slightly at the compliment to those teachings she believed a secret, and he went on,—
“What has the world been doing here since I left?”
“Pretty much what it did while you were here. It looked after its turnips and asparagus, took care of its young calves, fattened its chickens, grumbled at the dear-ness of everything, and wondered when Dr. Buck would preach a new sermon.”
“No deaths,—no marriages?”
“None. There was only one candidate for both, and he has done neither,—Major M'Cormick.”
“Confound that old fellow! I had forgotten him. Do you remember the last day I saw you here? We were in the garden, talking, as we believed, without witnesses. Well, he overheard us. He heard every word we said, and a good deal more that we did not say.”
“Yes; so he informed me, a few days after.”
“You don't mean to say that he had the impertinence—”
“The frankness, General,—the charming candor,—to tell me that I was a very clever girl, and not to be discouraged by one failure or two; that with time and perseverance—I think he said perseverance—some one was sure to take a fancy to me: he might not, perhaps, be handsome, possibly not very young; his temper, too, might chance to be more tart than was pleasant; in a word, he drew such a picture that I had to stop him short, and ask was he making me a proposal? He has never spoken to me since!”