“Religious?” said he, looking at her in serious surprise.
She nodded girlishly. The sun, long slanting through the cherry-trees, fell on her hair, loosely gathered up after her sleep, one free strand on her cheek.
“No, I’m not religious.”
“Well, you read the Bible all the time.”
“Oh, well!” said he, stooping as if to lift his pails.
“Why?” she wanted to know.
Joe straightened his long back without his pails. Beyond the orchard the hogs were clamoring shrilly for their morning draught; from the barn there came the sound of Isom’s voice, speaking harshly to the beasts.
“Well, because I like it, for one thing,” said he, “and because it’s the only book I’ve got here, for another.”
“My, I think it’s awful slow!” said she.
“Do you?” he inquired, as if interested in her likes and dislikes at last.