Only those who knew Henry Warner intimately
gave him credit for many admirable qualities he really possessed--so
full was he of fun. It was in his merry eyes and about his quizzically
shaped mouth that the principal difficulty lay; and most persons,
seeing him for the first time, fancied that in some way he was making
sport of them. This was old Hagar's impression, as she sat there in
dignified silence, rather enjoying, than otherwise, the occasional
groans which came from his white lips. There were intervals, however,
when he was comparatively free from pain, and these he improved by
questioning her with regard to Maggie, asking who she was and where
she lived.
"She is Maggie Miller, and she lives in a house," answered the old
woman rather pettishly.
"Ah, indeed--snappish, are you?" said the young man, attempting to
turn himself a little, the better to see his companion. "Confound that
leg!" he continued, as a fierce twinge gave him warning not to try
many experiments. "I know her name is Maggie Miller, and I supposed
she lived in a house; but who is she, anyway, and what is she?"
"If you mean is she anybody, I can answer that question quick,"
returned Hagar. "She calls Madam Conway her grandmother, and Madam
Conway came from one of the best families in England--that's who she
is; and as to what she is, she's the finest, handsomest, smartest girl
in America; and as long as old Hagar Warren lives no city chap with
strapped-down pantaloons and sneering mouth is going to fool with her
either!"
"Confound my mouth--it's always getting me into trouble!" thought the
stranger, trying in vain to smooth down the corners of the offending
organ, which in spite of him would curve with what Hagar called a
sneer, and from which there finally broke a merry laugh, sadly at
variance with the suffering expression of his face.
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