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Updated: June 15, 2025
The seat broke when Zekle and Huldy were having what they called 'a ride' together. The front was kicked in by a vicious mare. The springs gave way and the floor bumped on the axle. Every portion of the wagon became a prey of its special accident, except that most fragile looking of all its parts, the wheel.
"You Zekle White!" she cried out, snatching herself from his arm and bestowing a rousing slap on his face. "I knowed ye wouldn't give me one, so I tuck it jest so. Good-night tell ter-morrer, Mandy Calline; I'm goin' home 'n' dream erbout ye." The next morning dawned bright and soft. A perfect September morning. Father Tyler and the boys were at the lot feeding and milking.
Aunt Poll snuffled, and followed George to the door; Uncle Zekle drew himself up straight, and looked after him, his clear blue eyes sparkling with two rays, one of honest patriotic wrath, one of affection and regret for George; while Long, from the corner, eyed all with a serpent's wisdom in his gaze, oracularly uttering, as the door shut, "Well, that 'are feller is good grit!"
Again George reddened, fidgeted on his chair, and at last said, in a disturbed, but quite distinct voice, "I think the apples are good, Miss Sally, if the name don't suit you." "The name's too bad to be good, sir!" retorted Sally, with a decided sniff and toss of the head. Old Zekle gave a low laugh and interfered. "You see, George Tucker, these here times is curus!
I know you're erfeared o' th' teasin'. But ye needn't min' that; ye won't hev ter put up wi' it long; fer th' way I mean ter work on that house ter git it done well, 'twon't be long befo' it 'll be ready ter put my wife in it." "Well, Zekle," said the girl, hesitatingly, "ef ye'd ruther ask 'em ter-day, why I guess es how ye mought es well do it.
"Hooray!" shouted Zekle; "that's the talk; guess they'll sing smaller next time!" "They'll do more'n that, Zekle," responded Long; "this a'n't but the beginnin' o' sorrers, as Parson Marsh sez, sez he; there'll be a hull gulf stream o' blood, afore them darned reg'lars knows the color on't well enough to lay their course." Sally glided past Long, and plucked him by the sleeve, unseen by the rest.
"Come along!" shouted Zekle, "let 'em come! like to see 'em takin' our powder an' shot 'thout askin'! Guess they'll hear thunder, ef they stick their heads inter a hornet's nest." "Dredful suz!" exclaimed Aunt Poll, pulling turnips out of the pot with reckless haste, and so scalding her brown fingers emphatically; "be they a-comin' here? will they fetch along the batterin' rams?"
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