"You don't need fer to pick no more," she said coldly. "I'm a-goin' back home naow."
He looked at her at first beseechingly. Then a look of relief spread over his features.
"It's best so," he muttered huskily. But he turned and walked beside her.
"Fall'll soon be a-comin' on," she said. "See that there maple branch is red a'ready. That there one big branch allus turns red in August, long afore the others."
He quoted from one of his hymns:
The harvest is past and the summer is gone,
And Jesus invites us no more.
She was mastered by a cruel desire to make him suffer.
"I shouldn't reckon Jesus'd invite you," she scoffed, "after the way you bin a-actin'. Hain't you askairt you'll roast in hell fire forever for the way you bin a-doin'? An' you with the face to keep on standin' up an' preachin' diff'rent all the time!"