“I was merried when I was sixteen year an’ eight month old,” she ran on. “I had eighteen children that lived, an’ three that died. Like I said, I could of tolt ye how many grandchildren I had in all, ef someone hadn’t been so keerless with that air countin’ stick of mine.
“Air ye goin’ to merry agin arter a while maybe?” she added. “Some does.” She spoke in a wholly matter-of-fact way.
“You mustn’t talk to me about such things, Granny,” said Marcia Haddon, a faint flush still on her cheek.
“How comes I mustn’t?” rejoined Granny. “Hain’t yore man dead?”
“I know you mean it well”—Marcia Haddon reached out a hand to the gnarled hand of the old woman who sat close by. “All my life—it’s been so different, that’s all.”
“Davy tolt us something about them things,” said the old woman gravely. “I’m content to live right here the way we always done—leastways, I will be if I ever git to take jest one ride on them railroad keers.”
“Yes, they’ll come through here before long,” said Marcia Haddon. “I’m not sure I’m glad—usually when a railroad comes into a new country it changes it so much.”
“Hit’s had changes a-plenty already, seems to me,” said Granny. “Thar hain’t been a killin’ in here fer two year; sence the big meetin’ down at the mill house nobody’s been ridin’ fer nobody else, an’ nobody layin’ out—the old fam’ly diffikilties seemed to jest come to stop right suddent. An’ as fer liquor—why, of course ye know here, Ma’am, everybody makes his own liquor, as much as he wants. An’ now ye kain’t hardly git a bottle of liquor in lessen four er five hours, an’ I declar’, ye have to look around a heap to find that! How come that? Well, it was Davy Joslin done that—him an’ his school. Like ye, I dunno if I’m glad er not.”
“He’s a good man,” said her listener vaguely.
“Yes, an’ odd as Adam’s off ox. Kain’t nobody explain Davy noways. While ago, couple of year back, he was called to be a preacher. Then he goes Outside fer a couple of year, an’ comes back, an’—ye never seen sech a change in no human man in all yer borned life, Ma’am—his clothes is different, he walks different, an’ he talks different. Kain’t hardly nobody understand him no more. But he hain’t done preached onct! But everybody knows that if Davy says he’s a-goin’ to run that school, it’ll run, some time.