That makes him thin.
He has a notion of Margaret Cooper, and she has none of him; and
love that's all of one side is neither real nor rational. I don't
believe it."
William Hinkley muttered something angrily in the ears of the
speaker.
"Well, well!" said the impetuous cousin, "I don't want to make you
vexed, and still less do I come here to talk such politics with
you. What do you say to tickling a trout this afternoon? That's
what I come for."
"It's too cool," said the old man.
"Not a bit. There's a wind from the south, and a cast of cloud
is constantly growing between us and the sun. I think we shall do
something--something better than talking about love, and law, where
nobody's agreed. You, gran'pa, won't take the love; Bill Hinkley
can't stomach the law, and the trout alone can bring about a
reconciliation. Come, gran'pa, I'm resolved on getting your supper
to-night, and you must go and see me do it."
"On one condition only, Ned."
"What's that, gran'pa?"
"That you both sup with me."
"Done for myself. What say you, Bill?"
The youth gave a sad assent, and the rattling youth proceeded:--
"The best cure of grief is eating.
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