"My boy, when I wanted to marry her mother, I jest up an' asked her."
"I'm not good enough for her."
"That's so, and yet I reckon Curly's been dead gentle with you-all. Why, she sure sits on all our haids."
"I'm afraid she doesn't care for me yet."
"I expaict, Jim, that an eye-doctor is what you need."
"And you'll consent?"
"If Curly consents, on one condition. You get her safely out of this country, you take her to civilised life, whar she can stay good, away from us—thieves. Take her to the Old Country."
"To starve!"
"I'll see to that. I've left enough wealth with Chalkeye to give you a start in life. He came down yesterday mawning to see you-all at La Morita—you were out."
"Do you suppose," says Jim, getting hot, "that I'd take your money?"