"I have not struck hands with him, nor do I ever expect to."
"Hugh, Cousin Hugh," protested Mrs. Bodine, "I don't understand this move at all."
"Papa," cried Ella, with her arms about his neck, "you have done this for my sake, so do please give it up for my sake. Some other way will be provided for us."
"Mara, are you, too, down on me?"
"No, sir, never; but I'll share my last crust with you if you will have nothing to do with that man."
"I thought so, you brave, generous girl. That was like your father, and reminds me of a bit of experience. We were on a forced march, and the provision train had not kept up. It was night, and we were too weary to hunt around for a morsel. Wallingford (he was major then) came to me and said, 'Bodine, I've a hard tack and one cup of coffee. We'll go halves,' and so we did. He was so impolite as to take his half first. Do you know why?"
"I can guess," she replied with downcast brimming eyes.
"I reckon you can—you of all others; but he didn't succeed. I turned on him in mock severity and remarked, 'Major Wallingford, I never thought you would try to overreach an old friend. See, you have scarcely taken over a third of the coffee and hard tack.' He slapped me on the back and declared he would have me arrested for insubordinate and disrespectful language. Considering what sleepy, jaded men we were, we had a lot of fun over that meagre banquet, but he had to yield even if he were my superior. I fear you are inclined to go halves just like your father."
"Well, Hugh," cried Mrs. Bodine impatiently, "even that is better than your taking whatever this—this—I want an adjective that is not too wicked."
"No matter, Cousin Sophy, we'll each supply one according to our own degree of wickedness. A Yankee would say 'darned' though, confound the fellows, they seem to learn to fight and swear in equal degrees."