"What?"
"Rich or poor? Tell me in one word, dear heart, for whether or not I possess a brass farthing in the world, I do not know, upon my honour!"
"Poor innocent," she laughed; "poor unlearned and harassed boy! Know, then, that you have means to purchase porridge and a butcher's roast for Christmas."
"I be serious," said I, anxiously, "and I would know if I have means to support a large family—"
"Hush!" said Silver Heels. What I could see of her face,—one small ear,—was glowing in rich colour.
"Because—" I ventured. But she plucked at my arm with lowered eyes, nor would hear me to explain that I, newly wedded, viewed the future with a hopeful gravity that befitted.
"As for a house," said I, "there is a pleasant place of springs called Saratoga, dearly loved by Sir William."
"I know," said she, quickly; "it comes from 'asserat,' sparkling waters."
"It comes from 'Soragh,' which means salt, and 'Oga,' a place—"
"It does not, Micky!"