Miss Lomax had listened with lively interest.
"I 've always hated old Sam Briggs," she said emphatically, "ever since the time he broke a negro's leg with a piece of cordwood. When I hear of a cruel deed it makes the Quaker blood that came from my grandmother assert itself. Personally I wish that all Sam Briggs's negroes would run away. As for the young man, I regard him as a hero. He dared something for humanity. I could love a man who would take such chances for the sake of others."
"Could you love me, Charity, if I did something heroic?"
"You never will, Dick. You 're too lazy for any use. You 'll never do anything harder than playing cards or fox-hunting."
"Oh, come now, sweetheart! I 've been courting you for a year, and it 's the hardest work imaginable. Are you never going to love me?" he pleaded.
His hand sought hers, but she drew it back beyond his reach.
"I 'll never love you, Dick Owens, until you have done something. When that time comes, I 'll think about it."
"But it takes so long to do anything worth mentioning, and I don't want to wait. One must read two years to become a lawyer, and work five more to make a reputation. We shall both be gray by then."
"Oh, I don't know," she rejoined. "It does n't require a lifetime for a man to prove that he is a man. This one did something, or at least tried to."
"Well, I 'm willing to attempt as much as any other man. What do you want me to do, sweetheart? Give me a test."