"I don't believe his story, Jack, and I wouldn't worry myself about it."
"But supposing it were true, Darcy—that I was a—a—nobody, as he says?"
"I should think just as much of you," answered the other lad quickly.
"Thank you for that."
"St. John always talks too much—don't mind him."
"But I shall. If he tells the truth I want to know it—and, if not, I shall take steps to make him take back the stories he is circulating."
"It's a wonder he hasn't gone to the war. Why doesn't he enlist, like the rest of the young men in this neighborhood?"
"He says he must stay with his mother. But the real reason is, I think, that he is a coward."
"Perhaps you are right. I remember once, when there was a cry of mad dog in the town, he hid in a warehouse and was almost scared to death."
"Yes, I remember that, and I remember, too, when Big Bill, the slave, ran away and threatened to kill the first white man he met, St. John hid in the mansion and didn't come outside the door for a week."