She made no answer now, but pulled out the rude board table at the side of the fire, and placed upon it a yellowed plate or so, holding a piece of cold cornpone, a handful of parched corn.
“Eat,” said she. “Hit’s all we got. I borrowed some meal from the Taggarts. They’ve got no more to lend.”
“Don’t ask nothin’ of no one, womern. I’ll not be beholden to ary man. I tell ye, I’m castin’ up accounts.”
“What do ye mean—what ye talkin’ about, Dave?” She was half-frightened now.
“I hardly know. I kain’t see very much light jest yit.”
“Hain’t ye goin’ to eat?” she said. “Hain’t ye goin’ to sleep? Hain’t ye goin’ to lay down on the bed?”
“No!” said he. “No! Our children laid thar onct—them two. They died. It was best they died. They’re our last ones.”
“What do ye mean, Dave?” she again demanded, wide-eyed. “What do ye mean—ye hain’t a-goin’ to sleep here with me agin—nuvver?”
“No, I told ye. I said I was a-castin’ up accounts. Meliss’, I’ve got to go away.”
“Ye hain’t a-goin’ to quit me?”