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"An' Dod bless ev'ybody, Uncle Leviticus, an' Aunt Jinny, an' Johanna, an' Willis, an' Trudie, an' C'nelius" a sigh "an mom-a, an' that's all an' " "And pop-a?" No response. The mother prompted again. Still the child was silent. "And pop-a, you know the best last." "An' Dod bless the best last," said Barbara, sadly. A pause. "Don't you know all good little girls ask God to bless their pop-a's?"
I wish my father and mother could reach here in time on their way home from New Orleans, but when they get this far your bridal party will have been two days married and gone." Barbara mused a moment. "You know, this plan for me to give a year to study in the North has been as much mine as pop-a's; but pop-a's entirely responsible for putting me into your father's and mother's care on the journey.
Presently she turned upon the two horsemen a pair of unaggressive but invincible eyes, saying, languorously, "Mr. March, I want you to show Widewood to Mr. Fair to-morrow. Pop-a's been talking about showing it to him, but I want him to see it with just you alone." To Fair there always seemed a reserve of merriment behind Miss Garnet's gravity, and a reserve of gravity behind her brightest gayety.
"Most assuredly!" laughed the young men. "You know, Mr. March, pop-a's so proud of the Widewood tract that I believe, positively, he's jealous of anyone's seeing it without him for a guide. You'd think it held the key of all our fates." "Which is triply absurd!" "Superlatively!" drawled Barbara, and laughing was easy.
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