But Abner Pickett’s delight at finding his graveyard free left him in no mood to question or to criticise. The predominant thought in his mind was that the engineer, at the cost of increased distance, heavier grading, and additional curvature, had avoided cutting through his graveyard. It relieved his mind and gratified his pride.
“Look, Dannie!” he exclaimed, with a sweep of his arm toward the mouth of the gap, “ain’t that a beautiful curve? I tell you the engineer that laid that out knew his business. What kind of a lookin’ man did you say he was, Dannie?”
“Tall, Gran’pap. Han’some. Light hair, and blue eyes that looked you through. Voice like a—”
“What, Dannie! What! Light hair an’ blue eyes?”
“Why—no. The man I talked with yesterday afternoon had dark eyes an’ hair an’ whiskers. I don’t know as he was so very tall, either. I don’t know,—oh, I don’t know anything, I’m so tired an’ hungry an’ done out!”
And he was tired and hungry and done out. He dropped to the greensward at his grandfather’s feet, this boy of thirteen, and burst into tears.
And Abner Pickett, believing that the boy had undergone only what he himself had suffered, bent down to him with soothing words, lifted him to his feet, and, hand in hand, through the ever deepening mist, these two walked the road toward home.