"Hey!"
Richmond laughed. Miss Jerusha had jumped as if she had suddenly sat down on an upturned tack.
"Miss Jerusha, Richmond House wants a mistress, and I want Miss Georgia Darrell to be that mistress."
"Oh, my gracious!" cried the overwhelmed Miss Jerusha, sinking back in her chair.
"You have no objections, I hope, my dear madam."
"Oh, my gracious! did you ever?" exclaimed Miss Jerusha, appealing to society at large. "Marry my Georgey! My-y-y conscience alive!"
Richmond stood smilingly before her, running his fingers through his glossy dark hair, waiting for her astonishment to evaporate.
"You ain't in airnest, now," said Miss Jerusba, resting her chin on her hand and peering up in his face with a look of mingled incredulity and delight, as the faded vision of the brown silk, and the new straw bonnet began again to loom up in the distance.
"Never was so much so in my life. Come, Miss Jerusha, say I may have her."
"Why, my stars and garters! 'tain't me you ought for to ask, it's Georgey. Why didn't you ask her?"