“Oh! Can’t I tell it? It’s really too good to keep. And then,” she added seriously, “people might think you have been really fighting. Don’t you think it would be best to tell what actually happened?”
“Mighty little any of them would care how I got my shine. But I cal’late it would be best for the parson if we’d keep it quiet.”
“Very well, Uncle Josiah. He is really going to live with you, isn’t he?”
“Don’t that look like it?” he asked, pointing his pipe-stem toward the house.
“But that is for you, too.”
“For me? You’d see that set of females getting down on their prayer-bones for an old sinner like me, except to ask God A’mighty to strike me dead. I ain’t that popular, not yet.”
“Captain Pott, I don’t like that one bit! I 17 canceled all my engagements in the city when Father told me the other day what the ladies of the church were planning to do for you. I did it just to help you, and now–––”
“There, there, Beth.” The old man reached out and touched her arm. “Excuse me, Beth. I feel like a cantankerous old sore-headed bear this morning. Of course, you come home to help me. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“They mean well, too,” she loyally defended her neighbors.
“It was awful nice of you,” he replied, ignoring her reference to those at work in the house. “It’s worth it to put up with that whole pack inside just to have you come.”