"Any time, Reuben; next Sunday, if you like."
"Very well, my dear; next Sunday it shall be! God bless you, Hannah; and God bless the poor boy, too. I mean to adopt that child, Hannah, and cowhide his father within an inch of his life, if ever I find him out!"
"Talk of all this on Sunday when you come, Reuben; not now, oh, not now!"
"Sartinly not now, my dear; I see the impropriety of it. Good-by, my dear. Now, shan't I send Nancy or Peggy over to stay with you?"
"Upon no account, Reuben."
"Just as you say, then. Good-by, my poor dear."
And after another dozen affectionate adieus Reuben reluctantly dragged himself from the hut.