“Me! Oh, you beast—you been fooling me all dis time. You lie, dreadful; I don’t know what may happen to you; but, after all, I am glad you said Katrine, and I am glad you said Veeder, for I don’t know what I should do if you were to fall in love with any one else, you dear, cheating, bundling old vagabond!”
With these somewhat contradictory epithets, Katrine kissed him, then and there.
“Let’s get back to what we were talking of before, my dear,” said Boston. “I can’t afford too much time here. Where is Theresa?”
“Somewhere about the house.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know, Boston; promise me—promise poor Katrine that you will not lead her into any rash things, which may make her father angry; he is none too kind to her since she saw dat young lieutenant, and they learned to love each other. Dat’s de same time you and me tried it, you dear old swindler.”
“The very time. Now, I ain’t going to make no rash promises. I don’t know what may happen; but, this I will promise—through my means, no harm shall come to the gal. I like her for herself, and I like her for the sake of Willie, who is the best young fellow I know.”
A clear, rich voice sounded at this moment in a merry song. Katrine held up her hand.
“That’s her; who could have the heart to do her a wrong? Ah; she is coming in here.”