“I jest thought I’d drop in.”
“Wall, it’s precious kind of you, I’m shore. I was a-feelin’ kind o’ lonesome. The children go to bed with the chickens.”
“I jest thought I’d drop in.”
“Wall, it does remind me of old times to see you jest droppin’ in, informal like, this way. My, how time does fly!”
“Widder, I’ve been thinkin’ a good deal lately; I’ve been greatly prospered in my day; in fact, my cup runneth over.”
“You have been prospered, Nathan.”
“Seems ’s ef—seems ’s ef I ought to sheer it with somebody, don’t it?”
“Wall, Nathan, I don’t know nobody that’s more generous in givin’ to the pore than you air.”
“I don’t mean in jest exactly that way. I mean, widder—you’re the morti—I mean the salvation of my soul. Could you—would you—er do you think you’d keer to sheer my blessin’s with me an’ add another one to ’em?”
The Widow Young looked at him in astonishment; then the tears filled her eyes as she asked, “Nathan, do you mean it?”