"Dick Smith, yes! But don't you see, besides, what she _does_ want? Why, she wants to keep Oliver and Ferry apart until somebody else for whom she doesn't care as she cares for Ned, say you, or I, or--or--"
"Gholson, no! she can't trust Gholson, Gholson's conscience is too vindictive; that's why she's keeping him with her as long as she can. No, but until some of us, I say, can give Oliver a thousand times better than he ought ever to get--except for her sake--"
"Yes, you mean a soldier's clean death; and what you want of me is for me to say that I, for one, will lose no honest chance to give it to him, isn't it?"
"What I want of you, Smith, is to tell you that _I_ shall lose no such chance."
"Bully for you, Dick; bully boy with the glass eye! You see, you're one of only half a dozen or so that know Oliver when they see him; so Ned will soon be sending you after him. Ned's got a conscience, too, you know, as squirmy as Gholson's. Oh, Lord! yes, you don't often _see_ it, but it's as big and hard as a conscript's ague-cake." The Lieutenant gathered his rein; "Smith, I want Ned and her to get one another; that's me!"
I was tempted to say it was me, too, but I forbore and only said it was I.
"All the same," said Harry, "I'm sorry for the little girl!"
"Oh, come, now, you know!" He leaned to me and whispered, "Miss Cécile!"
"Lieutenant," I replied, with a flush, realizing what I owed to the family as a prospective member of it, "you're mistaking a little patriotic ardor--"
"Pat who--oh? I tell you, my covey,--and of course, you understand, I wouldn't breathe it any further--"
"Phew-ew! I don't know why in the devil _you'd_ rather I would not, but--Smith,--she's so dead-gone in love with Ned Ferry, that if she doesn't get him--I George! it'll e'en a'most kill her!"
I guffawed in derision. "And she didn't even have to tell you so! She can't even hide its deadly intensity from the casual bystander! haw! haw! haw! And it's all the outcome of a _three-days acquaintance_! It beats Doctor Swiftgrow's Mustache Invigor'--aw, haw! haw!" "Oh, you think so? Pity you couldn't get a few barrels of it--aw, haw! haw!" said Harry, and my laughter left off where his began. But, some way hurting his hand, he, too, stopped short. I drew my horse back.