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Updated: May 25, 2025
"That's your fence; if you don't keep it up, who's fault is it if my horses get on your land?" growled Dickerson, evidently making the matter a personal one with Hiram. "Your boy here cut the wires." "No I didn't, Dad!" interposed Pete.
Why! is that your stack burning?" "Yes, sir," said Hiram, quietly. "Another one!" "That is the second," admitted Hiram. "But I don't propose that another shall be set afire in just the same way." Sam Dickerson stepped suddenly down to the young farmer's level, and asked: "What do you mean by that? Do you know how it got afire?" Hiram held out the sling-shot in the light of his lantern.
"And who tampered with our pump the next morning? And who watched and waited till we left the lower meadow that night we burned the rubbish, and then set fire to our woods " Mrs. Dickerson screamed again. "I knew that fire never come by accident," she moaned. "You shut up, Maw!" admonished her hopeful son again. "And now, I've got you," declared Hiram, with confidence.
She could see, now, that nothing else could have been intended from the beginning, but she did not fail at the same time to credit herself with forethought and wisdom in bracing Cornelia against the overtures of Dickerson when he reappeared in her life. Burton, of course, advanced no claim to recognition in the affair.
Dickerson that he ceased, at least perpetually, to haunt her thoughts. She had moments when it seemed as if she might justly consent to be happy again, or at least allow herself to enjoy the passing pleasure of the time without blame. She even suffered herself to fancy taking up the picture of Charmian, and carrying it farther under Ludlow's criticism.
Dickerson great satisfaction; he laughed, throwing back his head: "Who, Tweet? Well, I thought you'd be after me there, about the first thing! I don't blame you; don't blame you a bit. Be just so myself, if I was in your place! Perfectly natural you should! Then you ain't heard?" "I don't know what you mean," said Cornelia, with mounting aversion.
I've often heard of such things: Me to pretend that I wrote this horrid Dickerson letter, and there isn't any such person; but I did it just for a joke, or wanted to break off the engagement because I couldn't bear to give you up. Don't you see?
Dickerson," said Hiram, "sharply, if you and yours don't trouble me, I can assure you." "What's eating you now?" demanded the man, roughly. "Why, I'll tell you, Mr. Dickerson," said Hiram, quickly. "Somebody's stolen our turkeys ten of them. And I have found them down there where your turkeys roost. The natural inference is that somebody here knows about it "
I thought you'd never come along, Jack!" he exclaimed, in a voice that quivered with eagerness and anxiety; "though of course I understood that you must be waiting for Mr. Dickerson to be free to talk with you. Tell me what you did, please, Jack?"
The pies oh, what pies Mother makes; no dyspepsia in 'em, but good nature an' good health an' hospitality! Pumpkin pies, mince, an' apple, too, and then a big dish of pippins an' russets an' bellflowers, an', last of all, walnuts with cider from the Zebrina Dickerson farm!
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