"Twon't do fer me to look at her," he murmured; "but if ever there was
a case----"
"Eh?"
"Never mind."
"What were you going to say?"
"Somethin' very fullish."
"Say it, Jeff. I'll not give ye away to Sadie. Honest, I won't."
"I believe," said Jeff solemnly, "that I've got it where the bottle
got the cork. It's a curious sort o' feeling, not unpleasant, but kind
o' squirmy."
"What in thunder are you at?"
"It's love, Bud--love at first sight. Now, mind--yer not to give me
away. I'm in love end over end with your sister. Don't git mad! She'll
never know it."
"Are you often taken this way?"
"Never before, by Jing! That's what's so queer. Mebbee I pitched on my
head. Mebbee I'm delirious."
"Mebbee you always were--half-baked. Looks like it, I must say. Give
me the case."
"Any more sisters, Bud? I reckon not. The mould must ha' been broke
when Miss Sadie was born. One'll make trouble enough for we men. Is
there another, Bud?"
"No."
"There's another picture in there."
"Yes--Dad's."
Now it chanced that as Jeff drew the portrait of Bud's father from the
case the boy had turned, and so missed the amazing expression of
surprise, dismay, horror, that flitted into Jeff's honest face, and
for the moment distorted it.
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