“Magnanimously,” said Jones; “I met you’ daughter an’ we had a nice conversation. You have a beautiful daughter, Mr. Proudleigh.”
“Cho!” said Susan deprecatingly, but nevertheless pleased.
“Oh yes, sir,” agreed Mr. Proudleigh; “she take after me. She have my features and my disposition. I always say she is me own daurter.”
“Hi! papee,” cried Eliza, a trifle indignant; “don’t we are you’ own daughter too?”
“Of course,” assented her father; “but Sue is de most oldest; an’ she take the world upon her shoulder.”
The world was really himself and the rest of the family, and a good deal of the deference he showed to Susan was inspired by the fear that she might some day throw the burden off.
“Yes,” said Jones, wishing to come to the point at once; “I seldom see a female like Miss Susan. She is perfectly emphatic.”
“Quite true, sir,” said Miss Proudleigh; “but we must remember that beauty is only skin deep, and except a young lady have the fear of de Lord in her heart, she can’t prosper. What society you belongs to, Mr. Jones?”
“Society? Me?” said Jones; “I never belong to any society since I use to go to Sunday school when I was a boy.
“Church is a very good thing,” he continued, “but a young man is wild.”