“I do owe you more’n ever a maid owed a man, I reckon.”
He took and held the hand extended.
“You cannot help what’s past and gone. Just call me home to your mind now an’ again—that’s all I ax ’e. Now I must be movin’, for I’ve got long ways to go to-day.”
Even in her misery she took a mournful pleasure in her power to command.
“Sit down an’ bide till I bid you go,” she said.
He obeyed, resumed the seat from which he had risen and tied and untied his bundle, but did not speak.
“If us could call back a year an’ begin livin’ all over again, Jan.”
He looked down at her, puzzled.
“A man would give his soul to go back a bit sometimes; but that’s about the awnly thing God A’mighty’s self can’t do, I reckon. ’Tis more’n His power to give back essterday.”
“He can do it His own way. He can help us poor unhappy creatures to forget.”