My friend, with sheepish obsequiousness, hastened to readjust his opinion to the satisfaction of his "grandmother."
"Good, good! I never believed a word of it myself—why should I?" said he.
"The best proof that I am not what calumny would make me is the fact of my meeting you here at the Pagan Altar; and again I beg of you to tell nobody that we have met."
Here Bessy again intervened.
"I'll answer for that. I shall now be constantly at the side of this honest gentleman, and if his tongue begins to wag, my hand will be ready to stop it for him."
Mr. Valentine laughed.
"What a woman it is! She really has a most rapid hand. Not a day passes but she lets me feel the weight of her palm."
At this I made a very critical face. My good friend could read very well from it that I wished to know by what right his cheeks were allowed to feel the force of Bessy's rosy palms day by day.
"We met together in camp, and the field-chaplain blessed our union to the roaring of guns and the beating of drums."
That was right enough, surely!