“Think he needs ye?”
Louisa considered the question. “Well no, not so much as if I’d always been here, and,” she lowered her voice, “sometimes I think he’d like to get shet of me.”
“What makes you say that?”
“He’s always talking of what a good house old Jabez Manypenny has, and how lucky a girl will be if she gets him. Sometimes I think——”
“What do ye think?”
“Oh, never mind. I guess I can look after myself. I’ve done it this good while, and hadn’t kith nor kin to turn to, so I reckon I can do it a while longer.”
“Till the war’s over?”
“And longer, if it comes to that.”
“Ye won’t fergit about that stran’ o’ ha’r. Ef ye need a feller to do anythin’ a woman can’t do, I’ll get to ye somehow. Nothin’ short o’ desertin’ shall stand in the way.”
“I reckon I won’t need to send my ugly old hair, but I’m much obliged to you all the same.”