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To start with 'e was always my fav'rite brother, an' I couldn' bear his startin' in low sperits an' South Africa such a distance off; beside which, I told mysel', the girl must surely know 'er own mind. So now you know," concluded Sam, "what I means by the nex' verse "
"Why, there's Solomon in the hall," said the Squire, "and playing my fav'rite tune, I believe "The flaxen-headed ploughboy" he's for giving us a hint as we aren't enough in a hurry to hear him play. Bob," he called out to his third long-legged son, who was at the other end of the room, "open the door, and tell Solomon to come in. He shall give us a tune here."
"'As a child, resoomes the Colonel, 'I'm romantic a whole lot. I'm carried away by music. My fav'rite airs is "Smith's March," an' "Cease Awhile Clarion; Clarion Wild an' Shrill." I either wants something with a sob in it 'like "Cease Awhile," or I desires War with all her horrors, same as a gent gets dished up to him in "Smith's March."
Oliver; ah's me! if you had knowed him as I did, in his prime, in that very battle where the old gentleman, who sleeps by his side, saved his life, when them thieves, the Iroquois, had him at the stake, you'd have said all that, and more too. I cut the thongs with this very hand, and gave him my own tomahawk and knife, seeing that the rifle was always my fav'rite weapon.
"Besides, my aunt was a sort of benefactor of mine, she always said I was her fav'rite nephew." "Is she dead?" "Died seven year ago this spring, while I was in New Orleans. She left me her second best ear-trumpet, she was deef as a post. She had two of 'em. One was a rubber toob sort of thing, pretty nigh four foot long. She only used that on Sundays, an' when the minister called.
If you get the one you like yourself, I don't know as it matters if all the other women folks in town don't happen to like him as well as you do; they ain't called on to do that. They see the face he turns to them, not the one he turns to you. Jot ain't a very good provider, nor he ain't a man that 's much use round a farm, but he 's such a fav'rite I can't blame him.
"Everybody has to have two names," she told him, severely. "The first is yours, and is your mother's fav'rite, and the other shows who your father is. Or maybe, if you're a second child, your mother allows your father to name you. But it's civilized to have two names, and not a bit nice if you don't unless you're a dog or a horse." Johnnie lifted an inspired finger, pointing straight at her.
Roars of laughter accompanied his departure, and Peke looked round with a smile of triumph. "It's just like a witch-spell!" he declared. "There's nowt to do but whisper, 'Parson's fav'rite! an' Parson hisself melts away like a mist o' the mornin' or a weasel runnin' into its 'ole! Hor er, hor er, hor er!"
I caught a glance between her and Edna, and some flashes between Edna and Vee, and I didn't need any sixth sense to feel that something was in the air. No move was made, though, until after coffee had been served in the lib'ry and Pa Pulsifer was fittin' his fav'rite Harry Lauder record on the music machine. First Mrs. Pulsifer slips out easy.
But the singer pronounced it Do-ho-ver; and then it went on over and over again. "Yes," said Ike, as if he had been talking about something; "them padroles put a stop to that game." "What game?" I said. "Highwaymen's. This used to be one of their fav'rite spots, from here away to Hounslow Heath.
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