He looked at me a moment more, and then seemed to shake himself or shudder, his eyes dropped away and he began walking toward his house. He had taken only a few steps, however, before he turned, and, without looking at me, asked if I would like to see the tools he used for trimming his hedge. When I hesitated, for I was decidedly uncomfortable, he came up to me and laid his hand awkwardly on my arm.
“You'll see something, I warrant, you never see before.”
It was so evident that he regretted his outbreak that I followed him, and he showed me an odd double ladder set on low wheels which he said he used in trimming the higher parts of his hedge.
“It's my own invention,” he said with pride.
“And that”—he pointed as we came out of the tool shed—“is my house—a good house. I planned it all myself. I never needed to take lessons of any carpenter I ever see. And there's my barns. What do you think o' my barns? Ever see any bigger ones? They ain't any bigger in this country than Old Toombs's barns. They don't like Old Toombs, but they ain't any of one of 'em can ekal his barns!”
He followed me down to the roadside now quite loquacious. Even after I had thanked him and started to go he called after me.
When I stopped he came forward hesitatingly—and I had the impressions, suddenly, and for the first time that he was an old man. It may have been the result of his sudden fierce explosion of anger, but his hand shook, his face was pale, and he seemed somehow broken.
“You—you like my hedge?” he asked.
“It is certainly wonderful hedge,” I said. “I never have seen anything like it?”
“The' AIN'T nothing like it,” he responded, quickly. “The' ain't nothing like it anywhere.”