"Teach him will I to pocket my honest wealth."
Because of his weakness, Joseph did not go to Moriah; to-day he said: "I will to-morrow," and to-morrow he said: "Certain enough I'll go to-morrow."
In the twilight of an afternoon he and Madlen sat down, gazing about, and speaking scantily; and the same thought was with each of them, and this was the thought: "A tearful prayer will remove the Big Man from His judgment, but nothing will remove Essec from his purpose."
"Mam fach," said Joseph, "how will things be with you?"
"Sorrow not, soul nice," Madlen entreated her son. "Couple of weeks very short have I to live."
"As an hour is my space. Who will stand up for you?"
"Hish, now. Hish-hish, my little heart."
Madlen sighed; and at the door she made a great clatter, and the sound of the clatter was less than the sound of her wailing.
"Mam! Mam!" Joseph shouted. "Don't you scream. Hap you will soften Nuncle's heart if you say to him that my funeral is close."
Madlen put a mourning gown over her petticoats and a mourning bodice over her shawls, and she tarried in a field as long as it would take her to have traveled to Moriah; and in the heat of the sun she returned, laughing.