Josiah and me didn’t shed no tears as we each of us parted, though our hearts ached with anguish we both of us felt it our duty to be calm. I felt a tear risin’ to my eye, but with a almost fearful effort I choked it back and said in low accents as we grasped holt of each others hands at partin’,
“Good by, Josiah, remember to feed the hens, and keep the suller door shet up.”
He too struggled nobly for composure and conquered, and in a voice of marble calm he said,
“Good by Samantha, don’t spend no more money than is necessary.”
The Ingin hitched to the front car give a wild yell, as if he felt our two woes—Josiah’s and mine—and we parted for the first time in goin’ on 15 years.
As I sunk back on the wooden bottomed car seat, perfectly onmanned by my efforts at commandin’ myself, for the first time I felt regret at my wild and perilous undertakin’.
