Mink burst suddenly into a satiric laugh, startling to hear. Mrs. Purvine turned upon him, the gourd trembling in her hand.
“Ye ain’t got no manners, Mink Lorey,” she said, trying to resume her note of superficial severity. “What be ye a-laffin’ at?”
“Jes’ at thoughts,” he said enigmatically; “thoughts!”
“Thoughts ’bout me, I’ll be bound,” said Mrs. Purvine aggressively.
“Naw; jes’ ’bout Lethe an’ that thar town man.” He whirled from the fire, and walked up and down the floor with his hands in his pockets.
“Waal, don’t ye say no mo’ ’bout’n him,” said Mrs. Purvine, desirous of contemplating him no longer, “an’ don’t ye ax me who he be—fur I won’t tell ye!”
“Thar ain’t no need ter ax ye; I know.”
Mrs. Purvine pondered on this for a moment. She forgot it in her effort to persuade the young fellow to accept the hospitalities of the spare bedroom, of which she was so proud. “Ye kin jest stay in thar all night, Mink, an’ all ter-morrer. Ye won’t wake up fur no breakfus’ arter the tramp ye hev hed, an’ a long sleep’ll ease yer bones. An’ ter-morrer night, ’bout ten o’clock, arter all the chill’n hev gone ter sleep I’ll gin ye a good meal, an’ ye kin set out, heartened up an’ strong. I’d ruther Jerry an’ the boys didn’t know ’bout yer bein’ hyar, ’kase I dunno what the law does ter folks ez holps them ez be runnin’ from jestice—or injestice; ’bout the same thing, ez fur ez I kin make out. An’ I don’t want them ter git inter trouble.”
“Mebbe the sher’ff’ll kem arter you-uns,” Mink warned her.
“Waal, I’ll tell him I ain’t got no time to waste, an’ ter take himself off the way he kem;” and Mrs. Purvine dismissed the imaginary officer with a lofty sniff.