"Not a bit of it, mother. Your charity is like a microscope when it is hunting for something good to say of people. Did you ever hear of the dead Dutchman?"
"Do pray, Billy, don't tell me any of your anecdotes now."
"Just this one, mother. There was a dead Dutchman who had been the worst Dutchman in the business. When the people came to sit up with his corpse—don't run, mother, I'm nearly through—they couldn't find anything good to say about him, and as they didn't want to say anything bad there was a profound silence in the room. Finally one old Dutchman, heaving a sigh, remarked: 'Vell, Hans vas vone goot schmoker, anyhow.' Let me see. Cousin Sarah Ann gives good dinners, anyhow, only she piles too much on the table. See how charitable I am, mother. I have actually found and designated the madam's one good point."
"Come, come, my son," said the colonel, "you shouldn't talk so."
Shortly after tea the two young men pleaded the weariness of travelers in excuse for an early bed going. Mr. Bob was offered his choice between occupying alone the Blue Room, which is the state guest chamber in most Virginian houses, and taking a bed in Billy's room. He promptly chose the latter, and when they were alone, he turned to his cousin and asked:
"Billy, have you such a thing as a dictionary about?"
"Nothing but a law dictionary, I believe. Will that do?"
"Really I do not know. Perhaps it might."
"What do you want to find?" asked Billy.
"I only wish to ascertain whether or not we arrived here in time for 'snack.' You said we would, I believe."