"—'n' I 'gree they's some sinse in her argyment, though it's my b'lief that a w'ite man 's got to drink some'n', 'n' 't' 's well be pyore whiskey as anythin'."
He stopped to relieve his overcrowded mouth, uncrossed his legs and recrossed them the other way, "to keep 'em frum goin' to sleep," and continued:
"'Pears to me Lessie said yo' come frum Lets'nt'n—uh-huh—some little ways off. 'S never thur. Walked over to Ced'rt'n onct, but home 'n' Hebrin's good 'nough for weuns. We ain't th' wanderin' kin', yo' mought say, but live peaceful 'n' work our—"
"Work!"
"—work our lan', whut little we've got that's fit'n'. You's good to our Jeffy—to S'firy's Jeffy, that is, fur he ain't no kin to me (not that I'd be 'shamed o' Jeffy, onderstan', on 'count o' his not bein' jes' right in th' head)—so I says to yo' here 'n' now 'ith S'firy 'n' Lessie to witness, as head o' this house I says yo're welcome here to-day 'n' any day!"
Then, quite unexpectedly, he clamped his hand across my leg above the knee, and gave me a squeeze which hurt.
I spent the remainder of the afternoon on that small front porch. Granf'er entertained me in the manner I have outlined; a mixture of opinion, native philosophy, and local news, with occasional caustic interruptions from Granny's two-edged tongue. Lessie said very little—what chance had she in the face of Granf'er's garrulity?—and once she went in the house and stayed for half an hour. When she came back she had on yet another dress, pure white this time. There were some frills and tucks and a touch of imitation lace here and there. I'm sure it must have been her Sunday frock. She was showing off her wardrobe, after the manner of a tot of eight or ten.
The sun had halted for a moment in its downward course on the crest of a range as I arose to go.
Granf'er was voluminous in his invitation to "Come ag'in 'n' set a w'ile"; Granny tendered me a defiant nod in response to my polite good-by, and lo! as I turned to bid Lessie farewell last, she had already moved into the yard, and was waiting for me! Side by side we started down the narrow, hard-beaten path. That is, she took the path and I walked in the new grass which bordered it.
"I'll go to th' crick with yo'," she said, demurely; then, with characteristic irrelevance—"Ain't Granny tur'ble?"