"Why, Belle Rivers, of course. Didn't I tell ye? She's the 'torney General's gal, an' she's comin' on a visit to our place. I'm here to meet her, but if you'd do it fer me, break the ice, so to speak, I'd consider it a great favor."
Sam was all alert now, and keen with interest. The Attorney General Rivers' daughter! What a piece of news he would have for the reporter of The Live Wire when he made his regular afternoon call. The whole town would be agog at the news, and he mentally pictured the excitement of Mrs. Dimock and Mrs. Rackshaw when they heard it.
"Will ye do it, Sam?" Abner asked.
"Sure, I shall be only too delighted. But how shall I know her?"
"Oh, ye'll have no trouble. Let me see," and Abner scratched the back of his head. "Jess gave me a full description. She's got hair like fire; eyes like diamonds; cheeks like roses; and teeth like the white of an egg; dresses like one of the fashion picters, an' doesn't wear any hat."
"Gee whiz!" Sam exclaimed. "If she's all that she must be worth looking at. And, say, Mr. Andrews, I didn't know you were so poetical."
"Poetical! What de ye mean?"
"Why, the way you described Miss Rivers. I never heard you use such language before."
"Oh, that ain't nuthin' to what I kin do. Ye should hear me when Bill Kincaid's cows break into my oats. Then ye'd know somethin' about my command of the English language."
"I guess there wouldn't be much poetry about such language, would there?" Sam smilingly bantered. "A poet, for instance, needs to be inspired, so I understand."