“Now there’s Molly—I call her Molly the Merry––”
“Who’s Molly the Merry?” interrupted Singleton.
“Old Merriweather’s daughter. She’s prettier than the summer roses, and they’re pretty, believe me. Her smiles’re warmer’n the sun.”
“Ah, yes! I remember the Merriweathers. Is the old man still alive?”
“Well, yes, but he’s as good as dead, though. Ain’t walked in three years. And Matty’s man, Mose, told Matty, and Matty told me, he’s meaner’n forty damn devils.”
“So you swear, too?” asked the father, breathing deeply.
Virginia opened wide and wider two sparkling blue eyes.
“Swear, sir?” she protested. “I didn’t swear.”
“Pardon me,” replied Singleton, laconically. “I thought I heard you say ‘damn’ several times.”
Virginia’s smile showed two rows of white teeth.