"Loisy won't be a week startin', neighbor."
"Never you mind, man. 'Lowin' 'em a week to get off, that's two weeks; then them emigrant trains is slow, say thirteen days on the road,—that's about another fortnight,—four weeks; this is the fifth, ain't it? Twenty-eight and five's thirty-three; that'll be the third o' next month, say. Now mind what I tell you, Brice; don't look fer 'em a minute before the third,—not a minute."
"'Pears like a long spell to wait, neighbor."
"I know it, man; but it'll seem a thunderin' sight longer after you begin to look fer 'em."
"I reckon you're right. Say four weeks from to-day, then. Like enough you'll be goin' in."
"Yes, we'll hitch up and meet 'em at the train,—you and me. The women'll have things kind o' snug ag'in' we git home. Four weeks'll soon slide along, man."
Joel went into the house smiling softly.
"I had to be almost savage with the fellow, Barbara. The anxious seat's no place fer a chap like him; it'd wear him to a toothpick in a week."
"But she might get here before that, you know, Joel."
"I'll fix that with the men at the depot. If she comes sooner we'll have her out here in a hurry. Wish to goodness she would."