Love’s Perfect Cure.
Bluegrass.
We don’t need it.
Whetstone [reading].
Love’s the Greatest Plague.
Bluegrass.
Hold on! yes, we do.
Whetstone [reading].
Love Me Little, Love Me Long; Love, Love, oh, what is Love? Major, my boy, that settles it. We must find out. Hurrah! I feel like a new man! Let’s be going! If I fail, Northlake shall not have a dollar. Violet’s the only collateral he can put up. If I don’t get her, I’ll take the next train to Cornville and marry Susan on the spot. She’s been a good housekeeper to me these many years; and once when I was sick she bathed my feet in hot water and mustard, and put a hot flannel around—I think it was my throat; and her elder-blossom tea can’t be beaten.
Bluegrass.