“No, I ain't,” said Nannie curtly. “Steve gardens, and you know it. You've seen him bent like a bow over these beds ever since we came here.”
“Yes, that's so.”
“And I've held myself as straight as an arrow.”
“Now thet's so, too,” and the old man laughed. “Ye're cute, yer air.”
“I can see right ahead of me. I don't wear smoked glasses,” said Nannie with a pretty little grimace.
“There's a deal goes on ahind smoked glasses sometimes,” said the old fellow with a laugh.
“How do you keep house?” asked Nannie with an abrupt change of subject. “You haven't any wife or daughter.”
“I don't keep it; jest trust it. Don't turn no key nor nothin' on it, an' I ain't never knowed it to stray outside ther yard. Ther's a heap in hevin' faith in things.”
Nannie's face grew thoughtful.
“Yer kin 'most b'lieve a man inter bein' honest, an' I reckon it acts ther same on wimmin, though they be a leetle different.”