"Remember the story. It will make you better. The storm is clearing."
The cloud had passed over, leaving behind the blue sky of spring.
"That was an awful good dog to have," said John Hanks. "There are human folks wouldn't 'a' done like that."
"I wouldn't," said one of the men. "But here, I declare, comes the old woman. Been out neighborin', and got caught in the storm, and gone back to Pigeon Creek. We won't have to tell that there story about her and the wig, and Johnnie Kongapod here. She'll tell it to you herself, elder—she'll tell it to you herself. She's a master-hand to go to meetin', and sing, and tell stories, she is.—Here, elder—this is Aunt Olive."
The same woman that Jasper had met on his way to Pigeon Creek came into the blacksmith's shop, and held her hands over the warm fire.
"Proper smart rain—spring tempest," said she. "Winter has broke, and we shall have steady weather.—Found your way, elder, didn't you? Well, I'm glad. It's a mighty poor sign for an elder to lose his way. You took my advice, didn't you?—turned to the right and kept straight ahead, and you got there. Well, that's what I tell 'em in conference-meetin's—turn to the right and keep straight ahead, and they'll get there; and then I sing out, and shout, 'I'm bound for the kingdom!' Come over and see me, elder. I'm good to everybody except lazy people.—Abraham Lincoln, what are you lazing around here for?—And Johnnie Kongapod! This ain't any place for men in the spring of the year! I've been neighborin'. I have to do it just to see if folks are doin' as they oughter. There are a great many people who don't do as they oughter in this world. Now I am goin' straight home between the drops."
The woman hurried away and disappeared under the trees.
The cloud broke in two dark, billowy masses, and red sunset, like a sea, spread over the prairie, the light heightening amid glimmerings of pearly rain.
Jasper went back to Pigeon Creek with Abraham.
"Isn't that woman a little queer?" he asked—"a little touched in mind, may be?"