"Well, there probably is no love lost on either side. She sold out at the
first bid, and you never had the least hold on her affections."
"Ah, I have had her confidence in too many moonlight walks to believe
that," was his reply.
"And it was all moonshine,--that's evident," I said.
"No, no; I wish it was. I never shall love again," said George, with a
deep sigh, and a sorry-looking cast of countenance.
"No, I suppose not," was my non-consoling reply.
"Still, do you believe I never loved that darling girl?" he asked, almost
in a rage. "If that man--that _fellow_--should die with the autumn leaves,
I would at once marry Jenny, who loves me still," he exclaimed, pacing the
room like an enraged lion.
"He won't die, however. He looks healthy and robust, and will outlive you
and your affection for his wife," I replied, with a derisive laugh.
It rained the next afternoon, as we returned home by a shorter route than
_via_ O. and B. George talked a great deal of Jenny on the way back, and
said he never should get over this fearful disappointment.
"Only think of the lovely Jenny Kingsbury marrying that fellow with the
bundle and the stick! O, I shall be sick over it; I know I shall."
"Especially if you take a bad cold riding in this storm," I added, by way
of consolation. "However, you can take some of your mother's good
thoroughwort--"
"Confound the thoroughwort," he interrupted.
* * * * *
"Did you know that George is sick?" asked his little brother of me the
following day.
"No. Is he much sick?" I inquired, in alarm.
"O, yes; he's awful sick--or was last night; and mother fooled him on a
dose of fresh thererwort tea, which only made him sicker," replied the
little chap, turning up his nose in disgust.
"Is he better now?" I inquired.
"O, yes; ever so much _now_. I don't know what ma called the disease he's
got; but howsomever she said thererwort was good for it, and I guess it
is, 'cause he's better."
I was called away, and did not see my friend George till a week after our
return from the little trip to B. He never mentioned Jenny afterwards, nor
said a word about the thoroughwort tea. He took to horses after that,
and eventually married a poor, unpretending girl, quite unlike the
dark-eyed, beautiful, and wealthy Miss Jenny Kingsbury.
Mrs. Brown still recommends her favorite panacea for all ails, physical or
moral; but whenever she mentions it in George's presence, he exclaims,
with a look of disgust,--
"O, confound the thoroughwort!"
[Illustration]