"Do you bore your friends here long, Mr. DROOD?" inquired MONTGOMERY; as
who should say: Maouiw-ow-ooo-sp't! sp't!
"Not this time, Secesh," is the answer; as though it were observed,
ooo-ooo-sp't! "I leave for New York again to-morrow; but shall be off
and on again in Bumsteadville until midsummer, when I go to Egypt,
Illinois, to be an engineer on a railroad. The stamps left me by my
father are all in the stock of that road, and the Mr. BUMSTEAD whom you
saw to-night is my uncle and guardian."
"Mr. SIMPSON informs me that you are destined to assume the expenses of
Miss POTTS, when you're old enough," remarks MONTGOMERY, his eyes
shining quite greenly in the moonlight.
"Well, perhaps you'd like to make something out of it," says EDWIN,
whose orbs have assumed a yellowish glitter. "Perhaps you Southern
Confederacies didn't get quite enough of it at Gettysburgh and Five
Forks."
"We had the exquisite pleasure of killing a few thousand Yankee
free-lovers," intimates MONTGOMERY, with a hollow laugh.
"Ah, yes, I remember--at Andersonville," suggests EDWIN DROOD, beginning
to roll back his sleeves.
"This is your magnanimity to the conquered, is it!" exclaims MONTGOMERY,
scornfully.
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