"No, not as bad as that. But I've had a change of heart, all right, an' I'm havin' a wonderful experience. I see all me good ancestors a-hoverin' over me head, smilin' an' breathin' upon me peaceful spirits. Oh, it's great! Don't ye wish you felt like that, Tildy? I think a new heart 'ud do you good, too."
"What I need is a new husband," was the scornful reply.
"But ye have a new husband, Tildy. He's come back to ye from the pit of destruction. He's changed, I tell ye, an' his heart is like the heart of a little child."
"And as simple, why don't you say? I'd like to know what's come over you."
"An' I'd like to know what's happened to you, Tildy. Why were ye sleepin' out in the woodshed? Were ye mournin' so much over me that ye couldn't stay in the old bed where we've slept fer years? Guess ye've got a warm spot in ye'r heart fer me after all, haven't ye?"
"It wasn't for your sake I was sleeping in the woodshed," Mrs. Andrews explained, "but to look after those children."
"Oh, I see; an' ye armed ye'rself with pails of water, eh?"
"I certainly did, as you should know."
Abner glanced down at his wet clothes and smiled.
"What happened to the other pail, Tildy?"