"Oh, no. To my mind a law book without poetry behind it is a heap of helpless dust. At first I must agree to take almost any case that may chance to come along, but after a while I will scorn all but the causes that admit of an orator's effort."
"Oh, that will be lovely!" she cried. "And to think that you entertain yourself and then get pay for it. However, if I were a man, I think I would be a preacher. Preachers are nearly always so nice and clean and they say such pretty things to women."
"It was my mother's ambition that I should be a preacher, and I'm sorry now that I did not gratify it," he said.
"Oh, charming of you to say so, Mr. Gradley. You see I don't let such a compliment get away from me. I might have pretended not to see it, and—and I believe I would if I had thought a moment. Then I could have made you repeat it. But really it is better for you to be a lawyer than a preacher. You have so much fire. Everybody says you are going to make your mark, and when you got into that trouble lately some one said it would ruin you, but father said it wouldn't. He killed a man once. Why, people have to kill men who try to kill them, don't they? But we won't talk about that. Are you going to the pic-nic over at Fletcher's Grove?"
"I hadn't thought about it. Are you going?"
"I don't know, but I'd like to, ever so much."
"Then go with me."
"Oh, that would be delightful, and I will be ready when you call for me. Do you dance?"
"I think," said he, "that I might have courage enough to rob a stage-coach or to fight a duel in a dark room, but I'm afraid that I couldn't summon the nerve to get out before a number of people and try to dance."
"Oh, you wouldn't mind it at all. Just as soon as the music strikes up you forget all about yourself. But isn't it dull about here? Nothing to do but to sit about and wait. Last year I visited an aunt who lives in Connecticut, and I had such a nice time. Everyone there is so active. But, after all, I was kept angry a good deal over the negro question. I never did get so tired of hearing a subject dinged upon. They hate us and can't help showing it; and they actually believe that one of these days they'll come down here, and, as they express it, turn the negroes loose. They believe we keep them chained together all the time; and that hateful book, 'Uncle Tom's Cabin,' is their bible. Have you ever seen it?"