Pitt never winked an eyelash; he had learned his lesson. With a sigh of relief that his respected stepmother was out of hearing, he responded easily, “I s’pose it’s a sign somebody’s dead or going to die.”
“No, it isn’t: dreams go by contraries. It’s a sign there’s going to be a wedding.”
“I’m glad to know that much, but I wish while you was about it you’d have dreamt a little more, and found out when the wedding was going to be.”
“I did; and if you weren’t the stupidest man alive you could guess.”
“I know I’m slow-witted,” said Pitt meekly, for he was in a mood to endure anything, “but I’ve asked you to have me on every day there is except the one I’m afraid to name.”
“You know I’ve had plenty of offers.”
“Unless all the men-folks are blind, you must have had a thousand, Huldah.”
Huldah was distinctly pleased. As a matter of fact she had had only five; but five offers in the State of Maine implies a superhuman power of attraction not to be measured by the casual reader.
“Are you sorry you called me a mass of superstition?”
“I wish I’d been horsewhipped where I stood.”