"
"You're the D--d--d--you're it, yourself, Harvey!" stammered Ned Vickery.
"You'd better look out, Ned," Harvey giggled, "we're all a little
nearer'n second cousins down here to Wallencamp. Ned's mother didn't use
to let him go to school much, teacher," Harvey added, turning to me; "it
used to wear him out luggin' home his 'Reward o' merit' cards."
"I n-n-never got any," Ned retorted, blushing desperately through his
dark skin; "n-n-nor you either!"
"I guess that's so, Harvey," said Lovell Barlow, quite gravely; "I rather
think that's so, Harvey--ahem, I guess it is."
When my visitors rose to depart they formed in line, with George Olver
and Luther at the head. George Olver was the spokesman of the group. He
offered me his strong brown hand in hearty corroboration of his words:
"We're a roughish sort of a set down here, teacher, but whenever you want
friends you'll know right whar' to find us; we mean that straight through
and fair an' kindly."
I thanked him, and then Luther gave me his hand, but did not kiss me, in
departing.
Each member of the phalanx gave me his hand in turn, with a hearty "Good
night," and so they passed out.
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