The fire on the hearth went out; she arose and went to her bed with the first gentle call of love throbbing in her bosom.
On the following day Fen Green found her about the flowers in the yard. She was preparing to take up many of the flowers and remove them into the house for the long winter. In all the style and glory of which Boaz Honeycutt had told her Fen Green came.
“It’s mighty pretty day, an’ ye air alookin’ well, Genie. I’m glad ye air so well. I hope thet ye air well enough to lis’en with some sense to what I’m agwin’ to say. Now, will yer be fair?”
“Why, yes, Fen, I will always try to see things rightly,” she said, as she took up a large chrysanthemum near the gate.
“Slade Pemberton is atalkin’ of you agwin’ off to skule. Now you don’t need no more skulin’. You’ve bin to skule an’ then your maw learnt you a lot at home. You don’t need no more learnin’. Too much learnin’ makes wimen highfalutin. An’ you know thet it wuz the will of Jase thet me an’ you marry at Chrismus. Now what you goin’ to do? You ain’t agoin’ to forgit adyin’ man’s request, air ye? He’s bin took to prison, an’ he’s too old to sarve out his time an’ come back—so he’s jist as good as ded. I won’t never beat ye like Jase did, neither. I’ll allus keep ye plenty to eat an’ ware. An’ you know I have a little farm up thar on the hill, with plenty of corn, cabbage, taters and sich like. Now won’t thet be better than goin’ off to skule an’ settin’ yerself for somebody thet ye can’t git?”
“Fen, I’m not thinking of marrying anybody. You have befriended me, and I want your friendship. I need it, especially when friends are so few.” She put down the spade and looked away off down the mountainside. Then slowly said: “No, Fen, we cannot marry. Here in this valley below us are girls better suited to you than I. Choose you a wife from among them, and prove yourself worthy of her. As a friend you can help me and as your friend I will try to help you.”
“I have loved you an’ waited fur ye—an’ I ain’t agoin’ to give ye up. I’ll be yer friend, an’ I’ll be yer lover too—an’ I hope thet ye’ll come to your senses some day,” he called back over his shoulder as he went down the mountainside.
The time came when Slade Pemberton was to close his store and make another trip up on the mountain to the cabin of Gena Filson. He went this time with a grave face but a good mission in his heart.
“I’m not much of a man, Genie, but I’m disposed to do the best for ye that I know. I wrote Mr. Waffington fer a little advice. I told him all about everything—thet I had been appointed your guardian an’ that the house an’ all was your’n, and that you could sell off enough of corn, beans and a few other things to send you to skule off somewhere fur a whole year or nearly so. Now I’ve got a letter here from him. He says that he will help you to get a scholarship. Now, I come up to see you an’ find out from you ef it’s your own mind fer you to go off to skule. Now ef it is, then Slade Pemberton is goin’ to see to it thet you git to go. Ef you want to go off an’ study music an’ a few other things, I say that you can go. I’ll buy in your corn an’ other things mostly myself. Emeline can go back to her own home while you are gone. I’ll git Uncle Laz to take care of the house while you are gone. Now, Genie, you jist decide about this to suit yerself. I’m jist Slade Pemberton, but I’m going to do right by ye, Genie, ef I know what right is.”
“Oh, I can hardly believe that you are saying it!” she cried, joyfully. “Oh, if I could only go to school!”