"
"This man's a parson, I believe."
"A parson--that's a difficulty. It is not altogether right to lick
parsons, because they're not counted fighting people. But there's
a mighty many on 'em that licking would help. No wonder you dislike
the fellow, though if he comes with John Cross, he shouldn't
be altogether so bad. Now, John Cross IS a good man. He's good,
and he's good-humored. He don't try to set people's teeth on edge
against all the pleasant things of this world, and he can laugh,
and talk, and sing, like other people. Many's the time he's asked
me, of his own mouth, to play the violin; and I've seen his little
eyes caper again, when sweet Sall talked out her funniest. If it
was not so late, I'd go over now and give him a reel or two, and
then I could take a look at this strange chap, that's set your
grinders against each other."
The fiddler looked earnestly at the instrument in the corner, his
features plainly denoting his anxiety to resume the occupation
which his friends coming had so inopportunely interrupted. William
Hinkley saw the looks of his cousin, and divined the cause.
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