He riz right up, the tears runnin’ down his face, and he ketched holt of my hand and kissed it. I d’no when I’ve been so kinder took back.
But I knew that Josiah wouldn’t care on sech a occasion as this, there wuzn’t anything immoral in it, and I couldn’t hender it anyway, it wuz done so quick. And then he started right off, fast as he could go.
And as sure as the world, that man went to work at his trade. Got two dollars a day. He didn’t drink a drop. He rented a little house with five acres of grass land round it and a paster. He kep’ two cows, milked ’em nights and mornin’s, sold his milk and laid up money.
Workin’ with all his heart and soul to be worthy of his wife and home.
And I writ to that man stiddy, jest as stiddy as though I wuz a-keepin’ company with him, every week of my life.
Josiah didn’t care. Good land! I writ on duty. I sent him good letters, all about how Annie wuz, and how she looked, and what she said, and a-holdin’ up his arms like Arun and Hur (specially Hur, it sounds some like a woman).
She made it her home with me, but went out to contoggle here and there, and laid up money, bought sheets and piller-cases and sech. And I helped her to two comforters and a bed-spread.
But she didn’t go back to him till the year wuz up.
No, I see to that.
And when that year had gone by, he wuz a sober man all the time, completely out from under the influences of the B. I. L. and cider and whiskey and saloons, and completely under ourn, Annie’s and mine and Temperance. And we a-doin’ our very best for him, and a-believin’ in him, and a-helpin’ him, all three on us.