“Father.”
“What is it, John?”
“Tige’s dead.”
“I’m sorry; poor fellow! I’d give the best cow I’ve got in the barn to have him back as smart as he was once.”
“I’d give them all, father.”
“Well, we’ve done all we could for him, John, and he’s gone where the good dogs go. It will make Ben feel bad; he and Tige were great friends.”
“And Fannie, father.”
“Yes.”
It was soon known in the neighborhood. About nine o’clock, Fannie Williams came in, now grown to be, by universal consent, the prettiest girl in town; industrious, capable, and, as Captain Rhines was accustomed to say, as good as she was handsome.