A lovelye youth an’ known full well—”
Mary (in great surprise). Father Gandy!
(Enter Capt. G. at R., with J. Q. A., in the uniform of a railroad-train boy, with a basket on his arm.)
Mary. Why, father! Where did you come from? And John Quincy Adams! (Rushes into his arms, spilling the basket.)
J. Q. A. Here! Here! What are you about, spilling all my spondulics! (Puts down his basket, and takes off his hat.)
Mary. Dear, dear father! where in the world did you come from? (Throws her arms round him.)
Capt G. Why! from hum, o’ coorse. Whar else should I hail from?
Mary (eagerly). Oh, father! do you know anything about William? I haven’t heard from him for two months, and I can’t think what the reason is. You don’t suppose anything could have happened to him, do you?
Capt. G. Oh! wal, no—I guess not. I saw by the Herald that Zab Miller’s skewner had strayed from the rest on ’em; but he knows wot he’s abaout. He ain’t a-gwine ter tell all Glowchester where them skewls o’ haulibaout hide. (Pats her on the shoulder.) Don’t yer worry abaout that! There ain’t no telegraph poles on them fishin’ graounds, an’ the post-man don’t drop in every day in them diggin’s, an’ there ain’t no delivery if yer do write, nuther.
Mary. I can’t help worrying; and yet I know he must be safe. But, father, how did you happen to come?