man, 'less he takes advice ev'ry day from the great Father of all. They's witches ev'rywhere, an' they're always lookin' fer a hoss to ride.”
“See here,” said he, as soon as he discovered us, “you must all come out an' look at my garden.”
“They want to rest,” Elizabeth objected.
“No; we'd rather go with Uncle Eb,” said Hope, and we followed him to the garden.
“Godfrey cordial! hear the birds!” Uncle Eb went on, as we took the path that crossed an edge of the clover meadow. “Lot of 'em been gettin' married, I guess. Don't do a thing but sing an' laugh an' holler—like a lot o' boys an' gals.”
His strength had failed since we saw
him last. He was bent a little farther, his hands trembled, a small task affected his breathing, but he was the same cheerful, keen-minded man.