American literature -- Humor; American wit and humor
He tried to speak calmly. "This is a disgrace. An infamous disgrace.
Never in my life have I--" Words forsook him, and his face grew redder.
"Never in my life--" He stopped again, because, at the sight of him
being dignified in his red drawers, I was making the noise of a dozen
hens. It was suddenly too much for the Virginian. He hastened into his
room, and there sank on the floor with his head in his hands. The Doctor
immediately slammed the door upon him, and this rendered me easily fit
for a lunatic asylum. I cried into my pillow, and wondered if the Doctor
would come and kill me. But he took no notice of me whatever. I could
hear the Virginian's convulsions through the door, and also the Doctor
furiously making his toilet within three feet of my head; and I lay
quite still with my face the other way, for I was really afraid to look
at him. When I heard him walk to the door in his boots, I ventured to
peep; and there he was, going out with his bag in his hand. As I still
continued to lie, weak and sore, and with a mind that had ceased all
operation, the Virginian's door opened. He was clean and dressed and
decent, but the devil still sported in his eye. I have never seen a
creature more irresistibly handsome.
Then my mind worked again. "You've gone and done it," said I. "He's
packed his valise. He'll not sleep here."
The Virginian looked quickly out of the door. "Why, he's leavin' us!" he
exclaimed. "Drivin' away right now in his little old buggy!" He turned
to me, and our eyes met solemnly over this large fact. I thought that I
perceived the faintest tincture of dismay in the features of Judge
Henry's new, responsible, trusty foreman. This was the first act of his
administration. Once again he looked out at the departing missionary.
"Well," he vindictively stated, "I cert'nly ain't goin' to run afteh
him." And he looked at me again.
"Do you suppose the Judge knows?" I inquired.
He shook his head. "The windo' shades is all down still oveh yondeh." He
paused. "I don't care," he stated, quite as if he had been ten years
old. Then he grinned guiltily. "I was mighty respectful to him all
night."
"Oh, yes, respectful! Especially when you invited him to turn his wolf
loose."
The Virginian gave a joyous gulp. He now came and sat down on the edge
of my bed. "I spoke awful good English to him most of the time," said
he. "I can, y'u know, when I cinch my attention tight on to it. Yes, I
cert'nly spoke a lot o' good English. I didn't understand some of it
myself!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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