“She’s mighty good-lookin’; I know it. I can take in the p’ints of a gal as good as if she was a colt. Good stock in her, too; that father of hern is full of grit an’ go, an’ her mother’s a lady. Still, you might have been kind o’ upset, an’ not knowed your own mind as well as you might.”
“Father,” said Phil, “you remember what you’ve often said about your horse Black Billy?—‘There’s only one horse in the world, and that’s Billy.’ Well, for me there’s only one girl in the world,—Lucia.”
“That’s the Hayn blood, all over,” said the old man, with a laugh that grated harshly on Phil’s ear.
“And I’ve lost her,” Phil continued. “Don’t let’s talk about her any more. Don’t remind me of her.”
“Don’t remind you?” shouted the old man, stopping short on the sidewalk. “See here, young man,” the father continued, shaking his forefinger impressively, “if I was you, an’ felt like you, do you know what I’d do?”
“No,” said Phil, amazed at this demonstration by a man whom he scarcely ever had seen excited.
“Well, sir, I’d stay right on the ground, an’ I’d cut that other feller out, or I’d die a-tryin’. You’ll never be good for anythin’ if you don’t do one thing or t’other.”
Phil smiled feebly, and replied, “You don’t understand: there are a great many obstacles that I can’t explain.”
“ ‘There’s a lion in the way, says the slothful man: I shall be slain,’ ” quoted the old man, from the Book which he had accepted as an all-sufficient guide to faith and practice.
“I’ve made a fool of myself,” said Phil, sullenly, “and I want to go home and take my punishment. I want to go by the first train I can get. I’ve a long list of things I’ve promised to buy for different people, but I can’t endure New York another day.”