"How well you counterfeit!" said Louie; "never mind. Allow me to congratulate you. We'll overlook the little piece of acting, and regard rather the delightful fact. Joined once more—ne'er to part—hand to hand—heart to heart—memories sweet—ne'er to fade—all my own— fairest maid! And then your delicious remembrances of Sissiboo."
"Sissiboo?" gasped Jack.
"Sissiboo," repeated Louie, with admirable gravity. "Her birth-place,
and hence a sacred spot. She used to be called 'the maid of Sissiboo'.
But, in choosing a place to live in, let me warn you against Sissiboo.
Take some other place. You've been all over New Brunswick and Nova
Scotia. Take Petitcodiac, or Washe Aemoak, or Shubenacadie, or
Memramcook, or Rechebucto, or Chiputnecticook, or the Kennebecasis
Valley. At the same time, I have my preferences for Piserinco, or Quaco."
At all this, Jack seemed for a time completely overwhelmed, and sat listening to Louie with a sort of imbecile smile. Her allusion to Miss Phillips evidently troubled him, and, as to her coming to Quebec, he did not know what to say. Louie twitted him for some time longer, but at length he got her away into a corner, where he began a conversation in a low but very earnest tone, which, however, was sufficiently audible to make his remarks understood by all in the room.
And what was he saying?
He was disclaiming all intentions with regard to Miss Phillips.
And Louie was listening quietly!
Perhaps believing him!!
The scamp!!!
And now I noticed that Jack's unhappy tendency to—well, to conciliate ladies—was in full swing.