His mother wove on: “Poor Nancy Ellen! Her father wouldn’t let her have the preacher for so long, and turned her off when she did marry him. Now she’s a widow in her honeymoon, and old man Morton saying he told her a preacher as old as himself wasn’t any match for her. Did you see her father? How did he act?”
“He got into the wagon by the driver,” said Willie’s fingers.
“Well, that was something for him.”
“And they drove to his place.”
“I suppose he’ll let her come back and live at home now.”
“I wish you had seen Nancy Ellen.”
“I’m going to see her after the milking is done.”
“Seen her by the preacher,” insisted Willie’s passes. “She looked like a captive coming in chains to Rome.”
“Yes, I’ll be bound she did. Every jolt of that twenty miles is stamped in her mind.”
“I wish,” flashed Willie, “I knew what the preacher sung to himself all along the road.”