Minute after, the parson begun t’ speak. Wal, soon as ever he got his first words out, I seen that the air was kinda blue and liftin’, like it is ’fore a thunder-shower. And his text? It was, “Lo, I am full of fury, I am weary with holdin’ it in.”
Say! that’s the kind of preachin’ a puncher likes!
After he was done, and we was all ready t’ go, I tried to get a better look at that gal. But the women folks was movin’ my direction, shakin’ hands and gabblin’ fast to make up fer lost time. Half a dozen of ’em got ’round me. And when I got shet of the bunch, she was just a-passin’ out at the far door. My! such a slim, little figger and such a pert, little haid!
I made fer the parson. “Excuse me,” I says to him, “but wasn’t you talkin’ to a young lady just now? and if it ain’t too gally, can I in-quire who she is?”
“Why, yas,” answers the parson, smilin’ and puttin’ one hand on my shoulder. (You know that cuss never oncet ast me if I was a Christian? Aw! I tell y’, he was a gent.) “That young lady is Billy Trowbridge’s sister-in-law.”
“Sister-in-law!” I repeats. (She was married, then. Gee! I hated t’ hear that! ’Cause, just havin’ helped Billy t’ git his wife, y’ savvy, why––) “But, parson, I didn’t know the Doc had a brother.” (I felt kinda down on Billy all to oncet.)
“He ain’t,” says the parson. “(Good-night, Mrs. Baker.) This young lady is Mrs. Trowbridge’s sister.”
“Mrs. Trowbridge’s sister?”
“Yas,–ole man Sewell’s youngest gal. She’s been up to St. Louis goin’ t’ school.” He turned out the bracket lamp.
Ole man Sewell’s youngest gal! Shore enough, they was another gal in that fambly. But she was just a kid when she was in Briggs the last time,–not more’n fourteen ’r fifteen, anyhow,–and I’d clean fergot about her.