“That is my name, and I am sure you must be Mrs. Burke.”
“Sure thing!”—shaking his outstretched hand heartily. “Now you come right along with me, Mr. Maxwell, and get into the democrat and make yourself comfortable.” They walked round to the front of the station. “This, Mr. Maxwell, is Jonathan Jackson, the Junior Warden; and this is my son Nicholas, generally known as Nickey, except when I am about to spank him. Say, Jonathan, you just h’ist that trunk into the back of the wagon, and Nickey, you take the parson’s suit-case.”
The Junior Warden grinned good-naturedly as he shook hands with the new arrival. But Hepsey continued briskly: “Now, Jonathan, you get into the back seat with Nickey, and Mr. Maxwell, you sit with me on the front seat so that I can talk to you. Jonathan means well, but his talk’s limited to crops and symptoms, even if he is an old friend, my next door neighbor, and the Junior Warden.” 17
Jonathan obeyed orders; and, as he got into the wagon, winked at Maxwell and remarked:
“You see we have to take a back seat when Hepsey drives; and we have to hold on with both hands. She’s a pacer.”
“Don’t you let him frighten you, Mr. Maxwell,” Hepsey replied. “Jonathan would probably hold on with both hands if he lay flat on his back in a ten-acre lot. He’s just that fearless and enterprisin’.”
Then, starting the horses with a cluck, she turned to Maxwell and continued:
“I guess I didn’t tell you I was glad to see you; but I am. I got your note tellin’ me when you were comin’, but I didn’t get down to the station in time, as the men are killin’ hogs to-day, and until I get the in’ards off my hands, I haven’t time for anything.”
“I am sorry to have put you to the trouble of coming at all. I’m sure it’s very good of you.”
“No trouble; not the least. I generally look after the visitin’ parsons, and I’m quite used to it. You can get used to ’most anything.”