"Oh, I hate him! I just naturally despise him!" cried Nan. When she was angry her face was pale, and it was very pale now.
"Why do you hate the wooden-leg man, honey? It was all in a dream," said Mrs. Absalom, soothingly.
"Oh, I don't know what you are talking about, Nonny!" exclaimed Nan, ready to cry. "I mean old Billy Sanders. And if I don't give him a piece of my mind when I see him. Now Gabriel will go to that place to-night, and he's nothing but a boy."
"A boy! well, I dunner where you'll find your men ef Gabriel ain't nothin' but a boy. Where's anybody in these diggin's that's any bigger or stouter? I wish you'd show 'em to me," remarked Mrs. Absalom.
"I don't care," Nan persisted; "I know just what Gabriel will do. He'll go to that place to-night, and—and—I'd rather go there myself."
"Well, my life!" exclaimed Mrs. Absalom, with lifted eyebrows.
The pallor of Nan's face was gradually replaced by a warmer glow. "Now, Nonny! don't say a word—don't tease—don't tease me about Gabriel. If you do, I'll never tell you anything more for ever and ever."
"All this is bran new to me," Mrs. Absalom declared. "You make me feel, Nan, like I was in some strange place, talkin' wi' some un I never seed before. You ain't no more like yourself—you ain't no more like you used to be—than day is like night, an' I'm jest as sorry as I can be."
"That's what Gabriel says," sighed Nan. "He said he was sorry, and now you say you are sorry. Oh, Nonny, I don't want any one to be sorry for me."
"Well, then, behave yourself, an' be like you use to be, an' stop trollopin' aroun' wi' them highfalutin' gals downtown. They look like they know too much. All they talk about is boys, boys, boys, from mornin' till night; an' I noticed when they was spendin' a part of the'r time here that you was just as bad. It was six of one an' twice three of the rest. Now you know that ain't a sign of good health for gals to be eternally talkin' about boys, 'specially sech ganglin', lop-sided creeturs as we've got aroun' here."