"Ay, a dozen if you wish."
"Promise me that, whatever tenants thou mayst have hereafter, thou wilt like me best."
"Why, so I will, especially if you give me the bow and arrows you promised. I liked you right away last night, and mother likes you, and Cousin Mary likes you, and Father White likes you a little; but I'll tell you who doth not."
"Let us hear, then; who is he that has such poor taste in likings?"
"Father Mohl."
"Why do you think that?"
"He thmiled at you."
"Oh! Is that a bad sign with the reverend Mohl."
"You mutht not call him that—you mutht call him holy Father. But you are right, it is a bad sign when he smiles that way. It is how he looks when he complains to Mother of me, and gets me a whipping. Father White smiles like a kind old pussy-cat; but Father Mohl smiles like a wolf."
"But thou wilt stand my friend even if Father Mohl like me not?"