"Good luck! I'm sure I'm in no hurry to be married; and, though I
haven't had Dora's chances of seeing all sorts of men, I dare say I
shall get as good a husband in the end," replied Kitty loftily.
"But, contemplating for one moment the idea that it may not be an
offer of marriage that Mr. Thomas Burroughs means by a 'matter of
importance,' let us consider what else it can be," said Karl with a
quizzical smile.
"Perhaps he wants your ideas upon the campaign in Western Virginia,
and a report of the general's real motives and intentions,"
suggested Dora gayly.
"Perhaps he wants to engage his winter's butter; though I don't
believe Dora is the one to ask about that," said Kitty.
"Now, Kitty! I'm sure I made up the last, and you said it was as
nice as you could do yourself."
"Yes; but you turned all the buttermilk into the pig's pail instead
of saving it for biscuits."
"So I did. Well, as dear old Picter used to say, 'What's the use ob
libin' if you've got trew larnin'?'"
"O Dora! how can you, how can you!-you cruel, cruel girl, how can
you speak of him!" cried Kitty in a passion of anger and grief; and,
pushing back her chair so violently as to upset it, she rushed out
of the room.
"Oh, I am so sorry!" exclaimed Dora in great distress; and would
have followed her, had not Karl held her back.
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