"But you had three little girls!" said Ramsey.
"Girl', they di'n' count! Because those girl', you know, they can' never run those steamboat'."
"I don't see why," said Ramsey. Hugh might sit silent if he chose; her silent sitting was over.
"They di'n' count," repeated the lady. "And so my 'usband he di'n' want those Courteney' to be ahead of those Hayle' in having boys!"
"He little knew what was coming," said Ramsey, and wondered why the remark was ignored, especially when——
"Me," said the pretty matron, "I was nearly ready to 'ave those twin', but Gideon Hayle he di'n' know they was goin' be twin', an' he di'n' know those twin' goin' be boys!" She gently laughed. The daughter stared as if in no light—or shade—could those twins be a laughing matter, but the mother spoke on gayly: "Never I 'ear my 'usband swear so hard—an' so manny way'—like that day—at everything—everybody. Not because that li'l babee—if that be all; but because he see that boat, that she's the mo' fine boat, that Quakerezz, an' when they ripport her run from Loui'ville, he's already affraid—to hisseff—that she's goin' to be the mo' fas'."
"And was she?" asked the girl.
"Barely," said the grandfather. "It took years to prove it and by that time your father had built another boat."
"The Chevalier!" she exclaimed.
"Yes, which beat the Quakeress once or twice nearly every season until the Quakeress burned."