"Something must ail he," thought Mrs. Hanson and was surprised that the idea had not occurred to her before.
Mrs. Hanson finished her meal, she washed her plate in cold water, she set it on the dresser. She put on her bonnet again, she took her umbrella and locked the cottage door behind her.
Abram's cottage was three-quarters of a mile away and Mrs. Hanson was feeling her age to-day. But she walked the distance, she reached the cottage and tapped on the door.
"Come in!"
Mrs. Hanson went in. Abram, dressed with his usual care, was seated in a stiff chair, drawn up to a round table. On the table, which was covered with a red flannel table cloth, was a large Bible. Abram was reading from the Bible, following the lines as he read them with his long, flat tipped finger.
Abram's face was battered and scarred, there was a deep gash on the forehead, there were livid marks under his right eye, on his left cheek, and a contused wound on his upper lip.
Mrs. Hanson looked at him, but she said nothing.
"I wish you good marning, Mrs. Hanson, and beg of you to be seated," said Abram.
Mrs. Hanson sat down.
In higher circles educated and polite people are apt to remark on any facial disturbance of a temporary disfiguring nature that may have befallen their friends. In Mrs. Hanson's circle it would have been considered bad form.