“What do you think of Mr. Warton?” said I.
“Our Parson!” laughed Joe; “that is a good ’un. Why he has got a sweetheart of his own. Let alone that he’d know better than to court a farmer’s daughter.”
“Are you sure?” said I; “your sister isn’t like most girls, I can tell you.”
“Yes, I tell you,” said Joe, “he’s no more in love with our Lu than you are.”
“Then I’m over head and ears in love with her, and that’s all about it,” said I, and I looked straight across at him, though it wasn’t an easy thing to do. But I felt I was in for it, and I should be much better for having it over.
Joe gave a start, and a long whistle; and then a puff or two at his pipe, staring at me right in the eyes till I felt my head swimming. But I wasn’t going to look down just then; if he had looked me right through he couldn’t have found any thing I was ashamed of, so far as his sister was concerned, and I felt he had a right to look as hard as he pleased, and that I was bound not to shirk it.
Presently he got up, and took a turn or two up and down the kitchen. Then he stopped—
“Spoke to her, yet?” said he.
“No,” said I, “I haven’t.”
“Come, give us your hand, Dick,” said he, holding out his, and looking quite bright again; “I knew you would be all on the square, let be what might.”