“Proceed, Mr. Tolliver,” she continued after a pause, “proceed, I am listening with great interest.”
“What I’m ergwine ter state ter ye mought mek ye mad, but hit can’t be holp, I jest hev ter say it—I air jest erbleeged ter say it.”
His voice was husky and he was assuming a tragic air. Miss Crabb felt a strange thrill creep throughout her frame as a sudden suspicion seemed to leap back and forth between her heart and her brain.
“No, I assure you that I could not be angry with you, Mr. Tolliver, under any circumstances,” she murmured, “you have been so very kind to me.”
“Hit air awful confusin’ an’ hit mek a feller feel smaller ’n a mouse ter speak it right out, but then hit air no foolishness, hit air pine blank business.”
“Of course,” said Miss Crabb pensively, “of course you feel some embarrassment.”
He hitched himself up in his chair and crossed his legs.
“Ef ye don’t like w’at I say, w’y I won’t blame ye a bit. I feel jest as if I wer a doin’ somethin’ ’at I hadn’t orter do, but my mammy she say I must, an’ that do everlastin’ly settle it.”
“Yes, your mother’s advice is always safe.”