"Never heard him? But I thought you were there."
"And we was, sir, so we was. And Denny here can tell you the whole thing, but for myself I niver heard a blessed word, after the singin' and the preacher stood up."
"Why, what was the matter?"
"The preacher himself."
"The preacher?"
"Yes sir. 'Twas this way, Doctor, upon my soul I couldn't hear what he was a-sayin' for lookin' at the man himself. With him a-standin' up there so big an' strong an'—an' clean like through an' through an' the look on his face! It set me to thinkin' of all that I used to dream fer—fer my Denny here. Ye mind what a fine lookin' man poor Jack was, sir, tho' I do say it, and how Denny here, from a baby, was the very image of him. I always knowed he was a-goin' to grow up another Jack for strength an' looks. And you know yourself how our hearts was set on havin' him a priest, him havin' such a turn that way, bein' crazy on books and studyin' an' the likes—an' now—now here we are, sir. My man gone, an' my boy just able to drag his poor broken body around, an' good fer nothin' but to dig in the dirt. No sir, I couldn't hear the sermon fer lookin' at the preacher an' thinkin'."
Denny moved his twisted, misshapen body uneasily, "Oh, come now, mother," he said, "let's don't be spoilin' the fine night fer the Doctor with our troubles."
"Indade, that we will not," said Deborah cheerfully. "Don't you think
Denny's garden's been doin' fine this summer, Doctor?"
"Fine," said the Doctor heartily. "But then it's always fine. There's lots of us would like to know how he makes it do so well."
Denny gave a pleased laugh.