The Patriarch ceased his narration and fell to stroking his beard and humming softly.
“Well?” cried the Loafer.
“Well?” retorted the old man.
“Did she ever merry?”
The Patriarch shook his head.
“Go look at the grave-stun,” he said, “an’ on it you’ll see wrote: ‘Here lies Becky Stump. Her peaceful soul’s at rest!’”
CHAPTER VII.
The Tramp’s Romance.
“Was you ever dissypinted in love?” inquired the Chronic Loafer of the Tramp.