"We'll have lots o' sport by an' by runnin' in the fields, Poacher," she whispered, lovingly, in his ear, "you ole comfort--always so sweet, an' good, an' never sassing back. You jus' creep away when you see some one comin' and don't say a word, do you? You're a sample to me; I wish I was like you. An' you never want to be bad, do you, an' chase back to the woods?"