“Then don't say another word, please.”
He sighed and looked out at the open door. The kitchen clock ticked loud in the silence.
“All right,” he said at last. “All right, but I'm goin' to keep on hopin'.”
“You mustn't, Nat.”
“Keziah, when you set your foot down you're pretty stubborn; but I've got somethin' of a foot myself. You remember you said so a few minutes ago. Hi, hum! Well, speakin' of dad reminds me that I'm kind of worried about him.”
“You are? Why? Isn't he well?”
“Pretty well, but he ain't strong, and he gets too excited over things like last night's foolishness. Grace tells me that the doctor says he must be careful or he'll drop off sudden some of these days. He had a shock five or six years ago, a little one, and I've been anxious about him ever since. I've got to go to New York off and on for the next month; after that I hope to be home for a spell and I can keep an eye on him. Keziah, if you'll listen I'll whisper somethin' to you—religion's a good thing and so's a mustard plaster, but both of 'em can be put on too strong. Dad is just a little mite crazy on Come-Outers, I'm afraid.”
“Oh, no, I guess not! You mustn't worry. How did Grace look to you?”
“Like the harbor light on a stormy night. She's a brick, that girl, and gets prettier every minute. Wonder to me some of the young chaps down here don't carry her off by main strength. She'll make somebody a good wife.”
“Um-hm. Have—have you ever thought of her that way yourself?”