"But where did ye git the money?"
"Never mind where I got it. That's my own business, so don't say anythin' more about it."
Abner was silent for a few minutes as he plodded along.
"Say," he presently began, "does Tildy an' the gals know about this?"
"Can't say fer sure," was the reply. "But I don't believe they do. I jist heard of it by chance, but I never said a word to ye'r folks."
"That's good of ye, Zeb." And once more Abner became silent.
The night was dark, and when the men were about a mile from their homes it began to rain, first a gentle drizzle, then a steady downpour. They hastened their steps, but the roads became muddy and slippery, which made progress slow.
"Say, Zeb," Abner at length panted, "an' ye really think I need a change of heart?"
"Don't ye think so ye'rself?" was the evasive reply. "Is this rain softenin' ye up? It is me, at any rate, an' I'm gittin' soaked."
"But how kin I begin the change, Zeb?"