“Adoo, musheer,” said Dave, taking his hat and leaving.  He boasted afterwards that he had spoke to the ole man in French when he was comin’ away.  Thought it mout kinder tickle him, you know.  And he said he didn’ mind a brown complexion a bit.  Fer his part, seemed to him ’twas kinder purty fer variety.  Wouldn’ want all women reddish, but fer variety ’twas sorter nice, you know.  He always did like sompin’ odd.

And he now threw all his energy into the advocacy of Perritaut.  It was the natural location of a county-seat.  Metropolisville never would be nawthin’.

Monday morning found him at Perritaut’s house, ready to sell himself in marriage.  As for the girl, she, poor brown lamb—­or wolf, as the case may be—­was ready, with true Indian stolidity, to be disposed of as her father chose.  The parties who were interested in the town of Perritaut had got wind of Dave’s proposition; and as they saw how important his influence might be in the coming election, they took pains to satisfy Monsieur Perritaut that Mr. Sawney was a very proper person to marry his tawny daughter and pocket his yellow gold-pieces.  The lawyer was just finishing the necessary documents when Dave entered.

“Eh bien!  How you do, Mistare Sonee?  Is eet dat you weel have a peench of snuff?” For the Frenchman had quite forgotten Dave’s mishap in snuff-taking, and offered the snuff out of habitual complaisance.

“No, musheer,” said Dave, “I can’t use no snuff of late yeers.  ’Fection of the nose; makes me sneeze dreffle.”

“Oh! Eh blen!  C’est comme il faut.  I mean dat is all right, vare good, mistare.  Now, den, Monsieur l’Avocat, I mean ze lawyare, he is ready to read ze contract.”

“Cawntrack?  Oh! yes, that’s right.  We Americans marry without a cawntrack, you see.  But I like cawntracks myself.  It’s my business, cawntracking is, you know.  Fire away whenever you’re ready, mister.”  This last to the lawyer, who was waiting to read.

Dave sat, with a knowing air, listening to the legal phraseology as though he had been used to marriage contracts from infancy.  He was pleased with the notion of being betrothed in this awful diplomatic fashion.  It accorded with his feelings to think that he was worth ten thousand dollars and the exhaustive verbiage of this formidable cawntrack.

But at last the lawyer read a part which made him open his eyes.

Something about its being further stipulated that the said David Sawney, of the first part, in and for the consideration named, “hereby binds himself to have the children which shall issue from this marriage educated in the Roman Catholic faith,” caught his ears.

“Hold on, mister, I can’t sign that!  I a’n’t over-pertikeler about who I marry, but I can’t go that.”

“What part do you object to?”

“Well, ef I understand them words you’ve got kiled up there—­an’ I’m purty middlin’ smart at big words, you see—­I’m to eddicate the children in the Catholic faith, as you call it.”