“Useter pass our house on the road,” returned the girl, dropping into her monotonous recital, “and useter signal.”
“Ah, signal?” repeated the Colonel, approvingly.
“Yes! He’d say ‘Kerrow,’ and I’d say ‘Kerree.’ Suthing like a bird, you know.”
Indeed, as she lifted her voice in imitation of the call the Colonel thought it certainly very sweet and birdlike. At least as she gave it. With his remembrance of the grim deacon he had doubts as to the melodiousness of his utterance. He gravely made her repeat it.
“And after that signal?” he added, suggestively.
“He’d pass on,” said the girl.
The Colonel coughed slightly, and tapped his desk with his pen-holder.
“Were there any endearments—er—caresses—er—such as taking your hand—er—clasping your waist?” he suggested, with a gallant yet respectful sweep of his white hand and bowing of his head;—“er— slight pressure of your fingers in the changes of a dance—I mean,” he corrected himself, with an apologetic cough—“in the passing of the plate?”
“No;—he was not what you’d call ’fond,’” returned the girl.
“Ah! Adoniram K. Hotchkiss was not ’fond’ in the ordinary acceptance of the word,” said the Colonel, with professional gravity.