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"And so I say, and I've always said, if a person feels like marrying again, let him do it." "Have ye, now? Well, ye're just that good, Mr. Richlin'." "Yes," he responded, trying to be grave, "that's about my measure." "Would you do ut?" "No, I wouldn't. I couldn't. But I should like in good earnest, Mrs.
Richlin'," replied Kate, lifting her head proudly as she returned with him toward the gate, "it's outrageouz; but it's not terrible. At least it's not for me, Mr. Richlin'. I'm only Mrs. Captain Ristofalah; and whin I see the collonels' and gin'r'ls' ladies a-prancin' around in their carridges I feel my humility; but it's my djuty to be brave, sur!
Richlin'? And so she sent her love to me, did she, now? The blessed angel! Now, ye're not just a-makin' that up? No, I know ye wouldn't do sich a thing as that, Mr. Richlin'. Well, you must give her mine back again. I've nobody else on e'rth to give ud to, and never will have."
Richling insisted, in the face of much scepticism on the part of the baker's widow, that he felt better, was better, and would go on getting better, now that the weather was cool once more. "Well, I hope you vill, Mr. Richlin', dtat's a fect. 'Specially ven yo' vife comin'. Dough I could a-tooken care ye choost tso koot as vot she couldt."
Riley, I should like, now, the comfort of knowing that you were not to pass all the rest of your days in widowhood." "Ah! ged out, Mr. Richlin'!" She failed in her effort to laugh. "Ah! ye're sly!" She changed her attitude and drew a breath. "No," said Richling, "no, honestly. I should feel that you deserved better at this world's hands than that, and that the world deserved better of you.
But Richling slipped away. Mrs. Riley shook her finger: "Ah, ye're a wicket joker, Mr. Richlin'. I didn't think that o' the likes of a gintleman like you, anyhow!" She shook her finger again as she withdrew into the house, smiling broadly all the way in to the cradle, where she kissed and kissed again her ruddy, chubby, sleeping boy. Ristofalo came often.
I was a-lookin' for ye. I knowed ye'd prove yerself that frind in need that he's the frind indeed! Take a seat an' sit down." She faced about on the vine-covered porch, and dropped into a rocking-chair, her eyes still at the point of overflow. "But ah! Mr. Richlin', where's all thim flatterers that fawned around uz in the days of tytled prosperity?"
She gave her head a series of movements, as to say she might be angry if she would, but she wouldn't. "Ye won't know uz when Mrs. Richlin' comes." Richling laughed, but she gave a smiling toss to indicate that it was a serious matter. "Come," she insisted, patting the seat beside her with honeyed persuasiveness, "come and tell me all about ud. Mr.
Riley," said Mary, holding her with her eye, "is my husband in prison? O Lord God! O God! my God!" Mrs. Riley wept. She clasped the moaning, sobbing wife to her bosom, and with streaming eyes said: "Mrs. Richlin', me dear, Mrs. Richlin', me dear, what wad I give to have my husband this night where your husband is!"
Richlin'," he gave his hand a limp wave abroad and smirked, "'In Dixie's land you take yo' stand. This is it. You're in it! Mrs. Richlin', my sister; sister, Mrs. Richlin'." "Pleased to know ye," said the woman, without the faintest ray of emotion. "Take a seat and sit down." She produced a chair bottomed with raw-hide.
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