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Updated: May 13, 2025
The horse was walking now, and suddenly Jethro Bass faced around, and her heart stood still. "H-how be you, Cynthy?" he asked. "How do you do, Jethro?" A thrush in the woods began to sing a hymn, and they listened. After that a silence, save for the notes of answering birds quickened by the song, the minister's horse nibbling at the bushes.
"H-how do you know?" "Because she said a man's name." The silence lengthened; he sat, tilted a little forward, blank gaze focussed on the snowy window; Drina, standing, leaned back into the hollow of his arm, absently studying her ring. A few moments later her music-teacher arrived, and Drina was obliged to leave him.
He carried his big head bent forward, a little to one aide, and was not, at first sight, a prepossessing-looking person. As our story largely concerns him and we must get started somehow, it may as well be to fix a little attention on him. "Heigho!" said Jock, rubbing his hands on his leather apron. "H-how be you, Jock?" said Jethro, stopping.
"H-how much did you git for your wool, Chester h-how much?" "Guess you hain't here to talk about wool, Bije," said Chester, red with anger. "Kind of neglectin' the farm lately, I hear," observed Bijah. "Jethro Bass sent you up to find out how much I was neglectin' it," retorted Chester, throwing all caution to the winds. "Thinkin' of upsettin' Jethro, be you?
Her toilet, after the journey, took her two hours or more to accomplish; it was dark at five o'clock and snowing heavily when tea was served. She tasted it, then, unable to subdue her restlessness, went to the telephone; and after a long delay, heard the voice she tremblingly expected: "Is that you, Jack?" she asked. "Yes." "H-how are you?" "Not very well."
"Uncle Jethro, I didn't know you were such a great man," she said. "H-how did ye find out, Cynthy?" "The way people treat you here. I knew you were great, of course," she hastened to add. "H-how do they treat me?" he asked, looking down at her. "You know," she answered. "They all stop talking when you come along and stare at you. But why don't you speak to them?"
His knees trembled, and it seemed as if he must fall to the ground, so great was his terror. "H-how d'ye know about Bill?" he gasped. "Never mind how I know," Samson replied. Then he turned toward Glen. "Excuse me, Miss," and he lifted his old weather-beaten hat, "I'm real sorry that you have to witness sich a scene as this.
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