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He was in his own place now, his hands trembling as they lay on the arms of his chair; a pathetic reproach was in his voice. "Though old folks oughtn't ter expec' too much o' young ones, ez be all tuk up naterally with tharse'fs," he added, bravely. He would not let his past lonely griefs mar the bright present. "Old folks air mos'ly cumber-ers mos'ly cumberers o' the yearth, ennyhow."
"Thet's whar you'd be lyin'! That yar heat kem out of the bowels of the yearth, kem up like out of a chimbley or a blast, and kep up that yar fire. And when she cools down a month after, and I got to strip her, there was a hole in the yearth, and a spring o' bilin', scaldin' water pourin' out of it ez big as your waist. And right in the middle of it was this yer."
Then along come this Danny Calkins, that taken up some land nigh to me in the bottoms low-downest coward of a, man that ever disgraced the sile of yearth and then I merried him." "Is he dead, too, my dear woman?" I asked. "Don't you 'dear woman' me I ain't free to merry agin yit," said she. "Naw, he ain't dead, and I ain't deevorced either. I just done left him.
She slapped the little darkies, and tied red-flannel rags wet with turpentine round the children's necks to keep them from taking cold, and scolded and fussed so that the little girls pulled the covers over their heads and went to sleep, and left her quarrelling. "Cose I gwine ter meetin', honey; I'se er tryin' ter sarve de Lord, I is, caze we ain't gwine stay hyear on dis yearth all de time.
No; I orter hev gone myself, and I would if I was master here, instead of me and your mother bein' the dust of the yearth beneath your feet." The young girl entered the house, followed by the old man, passing an old woman seated by the window, who seemed to be nursing her resentment and a large Bible which she held clasped against her shawled bosom at the same moment.
Now ef yer don't tell the truth I'll raise the kentry 'roun' en we'll hunt 'im to the eends of the yearth." "Well den, Marse Perkins," admitted the terror-stricken woman, "I des tell you de truf. Dat gran'boy ob min' des come ter say good-by. Marse Scoville daid en Chunk mos' up Norf by dis time, he went away so sud'n." "That Yankee cuss dead?" cried Perkins in undisguised exultation.
She leaned her elbow against the ash-hopper, balancing the wooden bowl of corn-meal batter on its edge and trembling a little; the geese and chickens and turkeys crowded, a noisy rout, about her feet. "Joe," she said, irrelevantly, "ye air one o' the few men on this yearth ez ain't a liar." He stared at her gravely for a moment, then burst into a forced laugh. "Ho! ho!
There's no sic a bein' o' the face o' the yearth, as a descendant o' that Glenlyon." "It makes little difference, I fear," said Mrs Courthope, who was no bad logician. "The question isn't whether or not there's anybody to forgive, but whether Duncan MacPhail is willing to forgive." "That I do believe he is, mem; though he wad be as sair astonished to hear 't as ye are yersel'."
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