“William,” asked Wells, “do you really love Miss Long?”
“Love her, lieutenant? That ain’t no name for it. Why, can’t you see yourself that she’s the sweetest darn sk— no, I mean the nicest critter in the world—exceptin’ Miss Mamie!”
“And does she love you, William?” asked Alibamo, smiling in spite of herself at the tableau enacting before her.
“Of course I do!” replied Sally, proudly and triumphantly, as if a victory had been won.
“There—there! Do you hear that? Now, don’t you pity me? I believe I am the most ugly cuss in the world. I never thought anybody would ever love me, and now I find out the gal as I wants most is just the one as does love me! Oh Lordy, I’m sick, I do believe!”
“All right!” Wells responded, with a smile.
“All right! Not by a blasted sight, sir! Did you think it all right when you loved Miss Mamie, and thought you had to swing?”
“What! You talk in riddles. Explain.”
“I’ve got to be hung!” he roared, but, whether with pain or delight, none could tell.
“Why, you didn’t have any thing to do with hurting the captain?” cried Sally, as she advanced toward her beloved.