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At length he rose slowly from the bench, and turned toward a door on the right. "We will have service now," he quietly remarked. "We would consider it an honour to have you join us." Douglas followed him through the kitchen into a little room beyond, where Mrs. Benton was sitting rocking herself in a splint-bottom chair. She arose as they entered, and held out her hand to the visitor.
Kintchin tied his horse to a "swinging limb," and the ladies were assisted to the ground. Tom conducted them into the post-office, a store wherein the merchant had for sale snuff, red calico, brown jeans, plug tobacco, cast iron plow points, nails and cove oysters. The post-master came forward dragging after him two splint-bottom chairs. "Set down," he said.
In front, under the shade of an oak, were two or three splint-bottom chairs. And chained to the oak by a staple driven into the trunk, drowsing in the heat of the summer mid-afternoon, lay a bloodhound. He had barely looked up when the car drove in. His heavy black body with its tan belly and legs was completely relaxed, and he was panting slightly.
Braile limbered himself from his splint-bottom chair, and came forward to the edge of the porch, as if to be sure of spitting quite under the claybank's body. Not until he had folded himself down into his seat again and tilted it back did he ask, "Goin' to order a suit?" "Oh, well!" said Reverdy, with a mingling of disappointed hope, hurt vanity, and involuntary pleasure.
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