“A man,” he replied, “should have something to offer a girl besides himself and possibly wounds or death, to be engaged to marry her. Did you,” he continued, “engage yourself to Miss Grant?”
“No, I did not mention it to her.”
Jot laughed a teasing laugh and said: “Well, Dave, I should not have even thought of putting such a question to you. You look more like a funeral than an engaged man just now!” And I guess I did.
“Cheer up, Dave!” he teased. “The girls are going to be in a hospital near us. Who knows but that we shall both be half killed and be sent there? Perhaps you will have Miss Emily to nurse you.”
“Who said anything about Miss Emily?” I replied crossly.
“No one but your face, Davie. You can not hide that; it always was a telltale! I know you are blue. I am, too. I am hard hit, like some one else I know.”
After this conversation we sat for a while in silence, and I thought Jot’s face grew more and more grave as we neared our destination.
“What is it, Jot, what’s troubling you?” I inquired. “Is it something that Von Rucker wants you to do against your will?”
“No,” he replied. “I never shall do anything contrary to my convictions, for either love or money.”
“Why don’t you use the name you are entitled to?”