“You know,” he said blissfully, “I used to think still this here kissin’ business is all soft mush, but--why--I think it’s all right. Don’t you?”
“Ach,” she laughed as she pushed his face away gently. “They say still there ain’t no fools like old ones. I guess we’re some.”
“All right, we don’t care, long as we like it. Here,” he spoke to the horse, “giddap with you! Abody’d think you was restin’ ‘stead of goin’ to market. We’ll be late for sure this morning.” His mittened hands flapped the reins and the horse quickened his steps.
“Ha, ha,” the man laughed, “I know what ails old Bill! The kissin’ scared him. He never heard none before in this market wagon. No wonder he stands still. Here’s another for good measure.”
“Ach, Amos, I think that’s often enough now! Anyhow for this morning once.”
“Ha, ha,” he laughed. “Millie, you’re all right! That’s what you are!”
That evening at supper Philip asked suddenly, “What ails you two, Uncle Amos, you and Millie? I see you grin every time you look at each other.”
“Well, nothin’ ails me except a bad case of love that’s been stickin’ in me this long while and now it’s broke out. Millie’s caught it too.”
“Well, I declare!” Amanda was quick to detect his meaning. “You two darlings! I’m so glad!”
“Ach,” the hired girl said, blushing rosy, “don’t go make so much fuss about it. Ain’t we old enough to get married?”