After a moment she released herself, and, taking John by the throat in the old fashion, said:
“And, John, we will begin all over again. We’re not old! So there!”
She spread her skirts and whirled around on her toes.
“Not a day older than in ’35,” said John, with glistening eyes.
She flew upon him and took him again by the throat.
“John!” she cried, “that’s a little too much!”
But John was not convinced—though she lifted her yellow hair and showed him where the gray was creeping in.
“But it’s mighty sweet,” she conceded.
They did exactly as they had planned—began all over again. John was as tender with her as he had been after that night of the husking. And Betsy was as devoted to John as she had been in that halcyon time.
“Growing old is just an idea,” said the happy John, one day.