"And then there's the fever an' ague," Samson added.
"Sometimes I feel sorry I told 'em about it because they'll think it worse than it is. But we've got to tell the truth if it kills us."
"Yes: we've got to tell the truth," Samson rejoined. "There'll be a railroad coming through here one of these days and then we can all get back and forth easy. If it comes it's going to make us rich. Abe says he expects it within three or four years."
Sarah had a hot supper ready for him. As he stood warming himself by the fire she put her arms around him and gave him a little hug.
"You poor tired man!" she said. "How patient and how good you are!"
There was a kind of apology for this moment of weakness in her look and manner. Her face seemed to say: "It's silly but I can't help it."
"I've been happy all the time for I knew you was waiting for me," Samson remarked. "I feel rich every time I think of you and the children. Say, look here."
He untied the bundle and put the dress and finery in her lap.
"Well, I want to know!" she exclaimed, as she held it up to the candlelight. "That must have cost a pretty penny."
"I don't care what it cost—it ain't half good enough—not half," said Samson.