For an instant Mr. Carvel's brow clouded.
“We'll not talk of husbands yet awhile, Lige.”
Virginia went up to Captain Lige, deftly twisted into shape his black tie, and kissed him on the check. How his face burned when she touched him.
“There!” said she, “and don't you ever dare to treat me as a young lady. Why, Pa, he's blushing like a girl. I know. He's ashamed to kiss me now. He's going to be married at last to that Creole girl in New Orleans.”
The Colonel slapped his knee, winked slyly at Lige, while Virginia began to sing:
“I built me a house on the mountain so high,
To gaze at my true love as she do go by.”
“There's only one I'd ever marry, Jinny,” protested the Captain, soberly, “and I'm a heap too old for her. But I've seen a youngster that might mate with her, Colonel,” he added mischievously. “If he just wasn't a Yankee. Jinny, what's the story I hear about Judge Whipple's young man buying Hester?”
Mr. Carvel looked uneasy. It was Virginia's turn to blush, and she grew red as a peony.
“He's a tall, hateful, Black Republican Yankee!” she said.
“Phee-ew!” whistled the Captain. “Any more epithets?”