"Oh, Poll! He's going to propose to the 'widder'!" whispered Eleanor, burying her face in Polly's back to stop the spasm of laughter.
Polly was too hypnotized to reply, or move, and Jeb soon was heard to say: "Sary, Ah cum 'cuz you-all invited me to be compny t'night."
"So Ah did, Jeb. Won't you-all sit in th' hammick beside me?" came from Sary, coyly.
"It broke thru, last season, Sary, an Ah mended it. But Ah ain't shore it'll hol' enny more'n you." However, Jeb moved two or three feet nearer the hammock.
"It's a fine evenin', Jeb," suggested Sary, as seriously as if the weather was the subject uppermost in her mind, just then.
Jeb gazed up and around as if to verify Sary's statement, then admitted, slowly: "Yeh, it 'pears to be fine."
Silence reigned for several moments, then Sary said very sweetly (Eleanor whispered to Polly that she must have had a mouthful of honey), "Ah shore am glad to see you, Jeb. Won't you-all sit down on this stool?"
The girls then saw that Sary had provided the three-legged milk-stool for her visitor. But it was too close to Sary for Jeb's peace of mind. He reached out very warily and caught hold of one leg of the stool, and pulled it towards him. Then he sat gingerly on the edge of it.
But Sary was determined to carry off a captive that night, or waste all of her ammunition in the attempt.
"Ah jes' loves to swing, but Ah cain't tech the ground easy when Ah'm sittin' back. Would you-all mind swingin' me, Jeb?"