Then Ajax indiscreetly asked if he was about
to commit matrimony.
"Boys," he replied, blushing, "I'd ought to be engaged, but I ain't.
Don't give me away, but I ain't got no best girl--not a one.
Surprisin', yes, sir, considerin' how I'm fixed--most _sur_prisin'."
He took off his beautiful coat, and wrapped it carefully in tissue
paper. We were sitting on the verandah after supper, and were well
into our second pipes. The moonlight illumined the valley, but
Jasperson's small delicate face was in shadow. From the creek hard by
came the croaking of many frogs, from the cow pasture the shrilling of
the crickets. A cool breeze from the Pacific was stirring the leaves
of the willows and cottonwoods, and the wheat, now two feet high,
murmured praise and thanksgiving for the late rains. When nature is
eloquent, why should a mortal refrain from speech?
"Boys," continued Jasperson; "I'm a-goin' to tell ye something;
because--well, because I feel like it. I've never had no best girl!"
"Jasperson," said Ajax, "I can't believe that. What! you, a young
and----"
"I ain't young," interrupted the man of independent means.
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