"That boy is conceited enough with hair ile and fine clothes
for anything," he said plaintively. "But didn't that Louise Macy hev a
feller already--that Captain Greyson? Wot's gone o' him?"
"That's it," said Minty: "he kin go out in the woods and whistle now.
But all the same, she could hitch him in again at any time if the other
stranger kicked over the traces. That's the style over there at The
Lookout. There ain't ez much heart in them two women put together ez
would make a green gal flush up playin' forfeits. It's all in their
breed, Pop. Love ain't going to spile their appetites and complexions,
give 'em nose-bleed, nor put a drop o' water into their eyes in all
their natural born days. That's wot makes me mad. Ef I thought that Loo
cared a bit for that child I wouldn't mind; I'd just advise her to make
him get up and get--pack his duds out o' camp, and go home and not come
back until he had a written permit from his mother, or the other baronet
in office."
"Looks sorter ef some one orter interfere," said the blacksmith,
reflectively. "'Tain't exackly a case for a vigilance committee, tho'
it's agin public morals, this sorter kidnappin' o' strangers. Looks ez
if it might bring the country into discredit in England.
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