"'She's got a reel nice, kind husband,' says I, tryin' to work on her feelin's.
"'I don't like husbands,' says she, as short as lard pie-crust.
"'She's got an awful nice little baby,' says I, for if you keep on long enough, you can always get a woman.
"She turns then an' looks at me.
"'It's a girl,' says I, 'an' Lord, the way it nestles up into your neck an' loves you!'
"Her lips opened an' shut, but she didn't say a word; but if you'd look 'way down into a well an' see a fire burnin' in the water, it 'u'd look like her eyes did then.
"'Its father acts like a plumb fool over it an' its mother,' says I. 'The sun raises over there, an' sets over here—but he thinks it raises an' sets in that woman an' baby.'
"'The woman must be pretty,' says she, suddenly, an' I never heard a woman speak so bitter.
"'She is,' says I; 'she's got—'
"'Don't tell me what she's got,' snaps she, gettin' up off the ground, kind o' stiff-like. 'I've made up my mind to go see her, an' maybe I'd back out if you told me what she's like. Maybe you'd tell me she had red wavy hair an' blue eyes an' a baby mouth an' smiled like an angel—an' then devils couldn't drag me to look at her.'