“You're goin' to board around, I 'spose.”
“No,” replied the man, “I'm going to stay at Nicholas Parks' house.”
The woman dropped her hands into her lap. Her mouth opened with astonishment.
“Not with ole Nicholas!” she said. “Why, the devil couldn't live with ole Nicholas! He's the meanest man that ever drawed the breath of life! He wouldn't give you a meal's vittels if it was to save you from dying!”
She arose to her feet.
“Dear me!” she said, “that won't do at all.” She walked about the room moving articles of furniture, and crumpling her apron in her fat hands. Finally she came back to the table.
“It ain't cold,” she said, “an' if you could sleep in the mill loft, you could stay right here with us.”
She hastened to explain.
“You could help me grind on Saturdays—that's the busiest day, an' maybe, if you're handy with tools, you could patch up the mill some. The wheel needs a new paddle, an' you could board up the loft, an' you could put in some steps.”
The man listened.