"Oh, Orlick!" she breathed in amazement.
Unconsciously she sat down on the wagon-bed, with the pile of money beside her; and thus, wholly enthralled, she muttered faint exclamations. Orlick's eyes glittered in their devouring scrutiny, fixed upon Belle-Ann's beauty.
"Oh, Orlick," she reiterated, "is thes all yore money? Where did yo' git all thes money, Orlick?"
For an instant he fumbled blindly for words; then found them at the end of his short, ingratiating laugh. He lied with a gusto that reddened his face.
"Git hit!" he echoed blatantly. "Why, Belle-Ann, I worked fo' hit! I'm trainin' hosses below, I git a hundred a month, Belle-Ann; an' I don't drink, an' I 'low t' save my money, I do, 'cose yo' know I 'low t' git married, Belle-Ann; an' hit takes a powerful sight o' money t' keep a wife like I'm aimin' t' do.
"I hain't aimin' t' keep my wife in these mountains. She'll dry up an' blow away 'fore a buddy kin git to her to bury her. I air a goin' t' buy a nice house in Louisville an' fill hit up with fancy fixin's, an', talk about fine, fancy clothes—well, mebby my wife won't hev some fine things, 'cose I got th' money t' git 'em with, Belle-Ann!"
"Orlick," she said, "how much do yo' 'low is heah?"
So engrossed was she in lifting the bills one by one out of the tangled heap, examining both sides minutely, and laying them in one smooth stack, that she had heard little of Orlick's discourse, being vaguely conscious only that he was talking.
"Why, Belle-Ann," said he, "hit's fo' hundred dollars!"
He chuckled immoderately and pressed his cowlick down, which defiant tuft popped instantly back to its position of attention.