"I'm shore I don't know, Sam, but it's er fact. I ain't thought as much erbout him these twenty years an' more as I have ter-day. Mebby Ab's a-comin'."
"Mebby he is, but 'tain't likely at this late day, an' I wouldn't be a-botherin' erbout it, Peggy," said the farmer, shaking the ashes out of his pipe before placing it in his pocket.
"I ain't exactly botherin', Sam, but I dreamed erbout him las' night, an' takin' it all tergether it jes' pesters me er little."
Mr. Upchurch got up slowly from his resting-place, and stepping into the west room, took down his gun from over the door.
"B'lieve I'll go a-huntin', Peggy."
"Well," she answered, absently, still thinking of her brother, and wondering if she would ever see him again.
"He's that onfortunit, he might 'a' wandered off an' er died among strangers, with not er soul ter look arter him, or ter put him erway decently," she murmured in a troubled undertone. "I can't fergit the time he stood between me an' old Miss Whitlock's dog, that run mad when me an' him was little fellers. He was always sorter sickly an' quare, but I knowed then he had grit, for there he stood as calm as could be, an' that dog a-comin' straight fer him, or so it 'peared like, jest er-foamin' at the mouth. I thought shore Ab 'ud be bit plum' through, but the critter passed by without techin' him. Them days is all over, but I ain't fergot that, I orter love him, poor feller!" And she looked away to those blue mountains with eyes grown dim with sudden tears.
It was Saturday afternoon, and therefore a holiday among the farmers. A man must be hard pushed indeed who will not "knock off" Saturday afternoon.
The Upchurch family were thrifty, industrious people, took care of their not too fertile farm, lived honest lives, and kept peace with their neighbors.
"Upchurch is er smart man, ef I do say it," his wife would sometimes proudly remark. "When me an' him married we 'lowed we'd help one ernuther, an' mebby we'd git helped; an' so we did, fer Providence always helps them that helps themselves."