CHAPTER VII
DALE DAWSON'S PHILOSOPHY
Passing out to the road, the Colonel being somewhat in advance, Bob laid his hand on Dale's shoulder.
"There are lots of things to be learned out of schools, as well as in," he said, falling into step, "and some of them I can teach you better than Miss Jane. You mustn't hesitate to ask me, nor be put out—offended, I mean—if I volunteer things for your own good. Understand?"
"Hit seems thar hain't nuthin' but goodness down hyar," the mountaineer murmured.
"How about that cabin behind us?" the young planter laughed.
"Shucks, he hain't yo' kind," Dale said in a tone of deep disgust. "He belongs moh ter my people, I reckon, than ter yourn."
"Why shouldn't your people and my people be the same?" Bob asked. "We're the same stock, and live in the same State, and speak the same language."
"Three chestnuts come outen the same burr," Dale slowly answered, "but ye hain't never seed all three alike yit! 'N' they're the same stock, too, 'n' live in the same house, 'n' borned of the same tree! Hit don't foller what ye say is right!"
"But they're chestnuts, all the same," Bob laughed, pleased with the simile.