Charles. Well, don’t get sentimental over them, Careless. They’re not worth weeping over; no, Careless. I’ve set myself up for an independent farmer, and there’s no clause regarding hoeing in my declaration of independence. You shall have a holiday: you needn’t work to-day. You’re not very fond of it at any time; but this day we have a visitor.
Charles. Yes, Nelly. I’ve got word from him; he’s coming down for a day’s sport. The very man I’ve picked out to lead you to the hymeneal altar.
Carlos. Gosh all hemlock!
Charles. What’s the matter, Careless?
Carlos. Me—I—nothin’; only darned skeeter up my nose.
Nelly. Picked out for me? Thank you; I can do my own picking.
Charles. And your own leading too. You’re smart enough to do the leading business. Where’s Jenny, “the girl I left behind me”?
Nelly. She left before you—came in. She ran over to Mrs. Young’s to borrow her pat.
Charles. Her Pat? Haven’t I told her I wouldn’t have an Irishman on the place?