"What do you mean by a true Southerner? I do not understand."
"Yes, you do. A true Southerner is always a Southerner, and takes the part of a Southerner in every dispute—right or wrong."
"What makes you dislike Northerners so much?"
"Cowardly Yankees!" was Preston's reply.
"You must have an uncomfortable time among them, if you feel so," I said.
"There are plenty of the true sort here. I wish you were in Paris, Daisy; or somewhere else."
"Why?" I said, laughing.
"Safe with my mother, or your mother. You want teaching. You are too latitudinarian. And you are too thick with the Yankees, by half."
I let this opinion alone, as I could do nothing with it; and our conversation broke off with Preston in a very bad humour.