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Updated: July 3, 2025
Then all of his possessions had been stowed in a long, bolster-like canvas bag for the short voyage. Both Angy and her husband recalled that time now the occasion of their first, and almost of their last, real separation. "A week'll pass in no time," murmured Angy very quickly, with a catch in her voice.
Angy felt that she had been made miraculously young by the birth of this new Abraham almost as if at last she had been given the son for whom in her youth she had prayed with impassioned appeal. Her old-wife love became rejuvenated into a curious mixture of proud mother-love and young-wife leaning, as she saw Abe win every heart and become the center of the community.
His lordship was the only person who ever reproved her seriously, yet she loved him best of all her kindred or friends. "Aunt Angy is going to play hide-and-seek with us. Will you play, Sir Denzil?" "I shall think myself privileged if I may join in your amusements." "What a courteous speech!
I come ter see Blossy twict a year afore we was married reg'lar; an' naow, I cak'late ter leave her twict a year fer a spell. A week onct every six months separate an' apart," proceeded the recently made benedict, "is what makes a man an' his wife learn haow ter put up with one another in between-times." "Why, me an' Angy," began Abe, "have lived tergether year in an' year out fer "
At last she said, half between sobbing and laughing: "Oh, Abe, ain't God been good to us? Ain't it jist bewtiful to be rich? Rich!" she cried. "Rich!" Abe sat down suddenly, and covered his face with his hands. In a flash he understood, and he could not let even Angy see him in the light of the revelation.
One moment she pouted, the next she let him touch her hand. "You may be going away soon, 'Red. Will you write to me if you do?" "Will I?" he cried, "Every day a postal-card at least. I ain't much at letters.... But I'm not so sure I'm goin', Angy. Something tells me that even if your father does hold the mortgage, it won't be foreclosed. Gil Jones has worked too hard...."
They're lookin' over property round here.... But I don't care, Angy. Even if I had to go to Bisbee four times a day and get some good-lookin' folks to bring down the road, I'd do it if you'd wave to me! Oh, why can't you always be nice to me?" "If I was always nice to you, you wouldn't know how lucky you are!" she countered. "It's good for you to have your bad days with me."
"She said she'd read another some day," they reiterated. "Most likely she'd 's soon do it next Sunday, 'n' sooner, 'cause she'd be more used to't than ef she waited a spell between." "But it won't do to take it for granted she's goin' to, 'n' not git anybody," said Deacon Swift, in great perplexity. "I think Brother Plummer 'n' me'd better go 'n' ask her." "No," said Angy, "let me go.
"Well, call it what you're a mind to," retorted the crisp Angy. "It's what I believe." "'Tis blasphemy though, to be sayin' it to folks that can't understand," she muttered to herself as she left the room, "ef blasphemy means what Mis' Kinney sez it does, to speak stupidly." Three years had passed. The novelty of Draxy's relation to her people had worn off.
"Well, of course old 'Red' has more to do now that Jasper Hardy's dead; but after all, he can hire all the men he needs. Guess it's more a question of his wanting to stay around Angy and the kid, don't you think so?" "He tries so hard to imitate you in everything. It makes me ache to see how happy he is, Gil. Aren't they the cutest couple you ever saw?
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