“Sure! She told me herself. That would leave us out a home. For I don’t want to live in no city and set down evenings and look at houses or trolley cars. You can hire out to some other people, of course.”
“Oh, yea! Amos. What in the world--I don’t want to live no place else.”
“Well, now, wait once, Millie. I got a plan all fixed up, something I wished long a’ready I could do, only I hated to bust up the farm for my sister. Millie--ach, don’t you know what I mean? Let’s me and you get married!”
Millie drew her heavy blanket shawl closer around her and pulled her black woolen cap farther over her forehead, then she turned and looked at Amos, but his face was in shadow; the feeble oil lamp of the market wagon sent scant light inside.
“Now, Amos, you say that just because you take pity for me and want to fix a home for me, ain’t?”
“Ach, yammer, no!” came the vehement reply. “I liked you long a’ready, Millie, and used to think still, ‘There’s a girl I’d like to marry!’”
“Why, Amos,” came the happy answer, “and I liked you, too, long a’ready! I used to think still to myself, ’I don’t guess I’ll ever get married but if I do I’d like a man like Amos.’”
Then Uncle Amos suddenly demonstrated his skill at driving one-handed and something more than the blanket-shawl was around Millie’s shoulders.
“Ach, my,” she said after a while, “to think of it--me, a hired girl, to get a nice, good man like you for husband!”
“And me, a fat dopple of a farmer to get a girl like you! I’ll be good to you, Millie, honest! You just see once if I won’t! You needn’t work so hard no more. I’ll buy the farm off my sister and we’ll sell some of the land and stop this goin’ to market. It’s too hard work. We can take it easier; we’re both gettin’ old, ain’t, Millie?” He leaned over and kissed her again.