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Updated: May 1, 2025
One of the uncouth younger fellows, his shoulders laden with a sack of meal, paused on his way from the porch to the trap-door to look up from beneath his burden with a sly grin as he said, "'Gene war wishin' it war true, that's why." "'Count o' Minta Elladine Riggs," gaily chimed in another.
And for these and such as these he had bartered the esteem of the community at large and his filial duty and obedience; had spurned the claims of good citizenship and placed himself in jeopardy of the law; had forfeited the hand of the woman he loved. "Minta Elladine Biggs ain't keerin' nohow fer sech ez Watt," said the semblance of the setter, with a knowing nod of his red head.
"'Gene don't keer much fur ye ter be alive nohow, Watt Wyatt," one of the others suggested tactlessly, "'count o' Minta Elladine Biggs." Eugene Barker's off-hand phrase was incongruous with his sudden gravity and his evident rancor as he declared: "I ain't carin' fur sech ez Watt Wyatt.
"I war up thar at the mill whenst the news kem ter-day, an' she war thar ter git some seconds. I hev hearn women go off in high-strikes fer a lovyer's death even Mis' Simton, though hern was jes her husband, an 'a mighty pore one at that. But Minta Elladine jes listened quiet an' composed, an' never said one word." The batten shutter was trembling in the ghost's hand.
As she once more lifted her eyes, she was obviously surprised to see him still standing there, and the crisis seemed to restore to him the faculty of speech. "Minta Elladine," he said huskily and prosaically, "I ain't dead!" She sprang to her feet and stood gazing at him, intent and quivering. "I be truly alive an' kicking an' ez worthless ez ever," he went on.
An' they do say in the cove that Minta Elladine Biggs hev gin him the mitten, anyhow, on account of his gamesome ways, playin' kyerds, a-bet-tin' his money, drinkin' apple-jack, an' sech." The newly constituted ghost roused himself with great vitality as if to retort floutingly; but as he turned, his jaw suddenly fell; his eyes widened with a ghastly distension.
"Waal," drawled the semblance of the setter from deep in the clare-obscure, "Watt war jes a fool from lack o' sense." "That kind o' fool can't be cured," said another of the players. Then he sharply adjuxed the dealer. "Look out what ye be doin'! Ye hev gimme two kyerds." "'Gene Barker will git ter marry Minta Elladine Biggs now, I reckon," suggested the man on the anvil.
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