“What’s the use learnin’ anything more, then?”
“One can never know too much, I fancy. Just at present he is writing a dictionary of the Indian dialects, so far as he has been able to obtain them.”
“The—Indian—language! He wouldn’t be so silly, now come!”
“He is just so wise. It is a splendid work. I am proud to be his helper, even by just merely copying his papers.”
“Well! You could knock me down with a feather! One thing—I sha’n’t never set under his preachin’. I wouldn’t demean myself. The idee!”
“Mercy, do you remember the red-covered Bible? Have you it still?”
“Course. I wouldn’t let anything happen to that. It was a reward of merit. It’s wrote in the front: ‘To Mercy Balch, for being a Good Girl.’ That was me afore I was married. It’s in my carpet-bag. I mean to have it buried with me. I wouldn’t never sp’ile it by handlin’.”
“I hope you’ll use it now, for it’s so easy to get another. The Doctor will give you one at any time. The Bible Society in the East furnishes all he needs.”
Dinner was promptly ready, and, after it was over, the Sun Maid carried her old friend away with her to the government building, which was not only hospital, but schoolhouse and land-office all in one. Everything here was so new and interesting to Mercy that surprise kept her silent; until, happening to glance through the window, she beheld a rough-looking man approaching on horseback.
“Pshaw! there’s Abel! Wait an’ see him stick where I stuck!” she chuckled. “Well, he sold out sudden, didn’t he? He’d better come in the wagon, but he ’lowed he’d enjoy a ride all by himself. I reckon he’s had it. See him stare and splash! There he goes! See that old nag flounder!”