"I ain't said much 'bout Happy,—that's short for Keren-happuch, the name she always went by,—but she was the fust thing I took any interest in after thet. My wife charged me over an' over again to look out fer her, an' I 'd begun ter think 't was time.
"There ain't no telling jest what Happy was. She war n't what you 'd call real harn'some, not at fust; but she had a way with her thet was winnin', an' a laugh thet always put me in mind of our old North Crick in August when it goes gurglin' an' winnerin' over its stony bed. She had a smile, too, to match the laugh. There ain't no tellin' what she was like. She was jest Happy, an' there warn't a likely chap this side of the border and t'other, thet knew her, who had n't tried ter get some hold on her. But 't war n't no use; she jest laughed 'em off, fust one, then t' other—but still they kept tryin' till she was twenty-one.
"On her birthday she come over to me jest 'bout dusk as I was milkin' in the shed,—I can see her now, standin' by old Speckles' head an' hangin' on tight ter both her horns as if fer support—an' turnin' sudden ter me with a kind o' laugh, thet sounded a good deal more like a choked-down sob, she says:
"'Brother Si.'
"My name is Silas C., but when I left what used ter be home ter me, I war n't willin' ter have strangers call me by the name thet belonged ter those I loved, so I 've been Cale to all the rest fer a good many years now.
"'Brother Si,'says she, 'you loved my sister; won't you tell me what ter do?'
"'What's up?' says I, fer I could n't collect myself she come on me so sudden, an' I knew by her looks she meant business. Then she blurted it all out:
"'George Jackson has asked me to marry him—an' father wants me to. I don't know whether I ought ter.' She wound up with a sigh.
"'Why not?' says I, fer I war n't master enough of my feelin's to say any more.
"'Well, I don't know exactly—only, I 'm afraid I don't love him as I 'd ought ter.'"