Her voice was slow, low, and rich, and in some wonder he half unconsciously repeated the unusual name.
"Where do you live?"
"Down the road a piece—'bout a whoop an' a holler."
"What? Oh, I see."
He smiled, for she meant to measure distance by sound, and she had used merely a variation of the "far cry" of Elizabethan days.
"Your father works in tobacco?" She nodded.
"You come from near the Ohio River?"
She looked puzzled.
"I come from the mountains."
"Oh!"