"It's not mortal, the doctor says."
"You'll need someone to take care of you, Mr. Bates."
"Oh, I'll get that."
He spoke as if setting aside the subject of his welfare with impatience, and she let it drop; but because he was yet too breathless to speak his mind, she began again:
"I don't mind if you don't sell, for I don't want to get any money."
"Oh, but ye can sell when I'm gone; it'll be worth more then than now. I'm just keeping a place I can breathe in, ye understand, as long as I go on breathing."
She pulled the leaves in her hand, tearing them lengthwise and crosswise.
"What I want—to ask of ye now is—what I want to ask ye first is a solemn question. Do ye know where your father's corpse—is laid?"
"Yes, I know," she said. "He didn't care anything about cemeteries, father didn't."
He looked at her keenly, and there was a certain stern setting of his strong lower jaw. His words were quick: "Tell on."