"Git along wid your rubbish!" retorted Susan as they crossed the street.
It was evident, however, that she was much pleased with her gallant
spouse.

"Now, den dis is what I calls hebben upon art'," said Quashy, sitting
down with a contented sigh. "To be here a-frizzlin' in de sunshine wid
Sooz'n a-smilin' at me like a black angel. D'you know, Sooz'n," he
added, with a serious look, "it gibs me a good deal o' trouble to
beliebe it."

"Yes, it _am_ awrful nice," responded Susan, gravely, "but we's not come
here to make lub, Quashy, so hol' your tongue, an' I'll tell you what I
heared."

She cleared her throat here, and looked earnest. Having thus reduced
her husband to a state of the most solemn expectancy, she began in a low
voice--

"You know, Quashy, dat poor Massa Lawrie hab found nuffin ob his
fadder's fortin."

"Yes, I knows dat, Sooz'n," replied her husband, with an expression of
the deepest woe.

"Well, den--"

"No, Sooz'n, it's _ill_ den."

"Quashy!" (remonstratively.)

"Yes?" (interrogatively.)

"Hol' your tongue."

"Yes, da'ling."

"Well, den," began Susan again, with serious emphasis, "don' 'trupt me
agin, or I'll git angry. Well, massa, you know, is so honoribic dat he
wouldn't deceive nobody--not even a skeeter."

"I knows _dat_, Sooz'n, not even a nigger."

"Ob course not," continued Susan; "so what does massa do, but goes off
straight to Kurnel Muchbunks, an' he says, says he, `Kurnel, you's a
beggar.'"

"No, Sooz'n, he di'n't say dat. Dough you says it wid your own sweet
lips, I don' beliebe it."

"Right, Quashy. You's allers right," returned the bride, with a beaming
smile. "I made a 'stake--das all. I should hab said dat massa he said,
says he, `Kurnel Muchbunks,' says he, `I's a beggar.'"

"Dat was a lie, Sooz'n," said Quashy, in some surprise.

"I's afeard it was," assented Susan, gravely.

"Well, an' what says de kurnel to dat?" asked the saddened negro, with a
sigh.

"Oh! he beliebed it, an' he says, says he, `I's griebed to hear it,
Mis'r Amstrung, an' ob course you cannot 'spect me to gib my consent to
my darter marryin' a beggar!' O Quash, w'en I hears dat--I--bu'sted
a'most! I do beliebe if I'd bin 'longside o' dat kurnel at dat momint I
hab gib him a most horrible smack in de face."

"De skownril!" muttered Quashy between his clenched teeth. "But what
happen arter dat, Sooz'n?"

"Nuffin happen. Only poor massa he look bery sad, an' says, says h