"

"Did father say so?" said Jessie quickly.

"No, but that is evidently what he meant."

"Ye-es," said Jessie slowly, "unless--"

"Unless what?" said Christie sharply. "Jessie, you don't for a moment
mean to say that you could possibly conceive of anything else?"

"I mean to say," said Jessie, stealing her arm around her sister's waist
demurely, "that you are perfectly right. We'll keep away from these
fascinating Devil's Forders, and particularly the youngest Kearney.
I believe there has been some ill-natured gossip. I remember that the
other day, when we passed the shanty of that Pike County family on
the slope, there were three women at the door, and one of them said
something that made poor little Kearney turn white and pink alternately,
and dance with suppressed rage. I suppose the old lady--M'Corkle, that's
her name--would like to have a share of our cavaliers for her Euphemy
and Mamie. I dare say it's only right; I would lend them the cherub
occasionally, and you might let them have Mr. Munroe twice a week."

She laughed, but her eyes sought her sister's with a certain
watchfulness of expression.

Christie shrugged her shoulders, with a suggestion of disgust.

"Don't joke. We ought to have thought of all this before."

"But when we first knew them, in the dear old cabin, there wasn't any
other woman and nobody to gossip, and that's what made it so nice. I
don't think so very much of civilization, do you?" said the young lady
pertly.

Christie did not reply. Perhaps she was thinking the same thing. It
certainly had been very pleasant to enjoy the spontaneous and chivalrous
homage of these men, with no further suggestion of recompense or
responsibility than the permission to be worshipped; but beyond that she
racked her brain in vain to recall any look or act that proclaimed the
lover. These men, whom she had found so relapsed into barbarism that
they had forgotten the most ordinary forms of civilization; these
men, even in whose extravagant admiration there was a certain loss of
self-respect, that as a woman she would never forgive; these men, who
seemed to belong to another race--impossible! Yet it was so.

"What construction must they have put upon her father's acceptance of
their presents--of their company--of her freedom in their presence? No!
they must have understood from the beginning that she and her sister
had never looked upon them except as transient hosts and chance
acquaintances. Any oth