The breeze left us, and the river slackened its pace in a gentler mood. Reeds lined its margin with soft shadows into which, often, bunches of blue iris flung their color.
“Gentlemen,” said Mr. McCarthy, presently, “I'm in need of advice.”
“Touchin' what subject?” Mr. Pearl inquired.
“My mind is set on matrimony,” said the young man.
“Tell it to get up an' move on,” said Mr. Pearl.
“Are you in love?” I asked.
“I fear that I am,” said Mr. McCarthy, with his accustomed frankness.
“All depends on the other party,” said Mr. Pearl.
“It's a beautiful girl by the name o' Betsey Fame,” the boy answered.
“Better be Miss Fame than Misfortune,” said the Pearl of great price.