Polly [cheerfully].
I guess you'll soon be walkin' round.
Link. Not if that doctor feller has his say: He says I can't never go agin this side o' Jordan; and looks like he's 'bout right.—Nine months to-morrer, Polly, gal, sence I had that stroke.
Polly [pointing to the ox-yoke].
You're fitter sittin' than most folks standin'.
Link [briskly]. Oh, they can't keep my two hands from makin' ox-yokes. That's my second natur' sence I was a boy.
[Again in the distance a bugle sounds. Link starts.]
What's that?
Polly. Why, that's the army veterans down to the graveyard. This is Decoration mornin': you ain't forgot?
Link. So 'tis, so 'tis. Roger, your young man—ha! [Chuckling.] He come and axed me was I agoin' to the cemetery.
"Me? Don't I look it?" says I. Ha! "Don't I look it?"
Polly He meant—to decorate the graves.
Link. O' course; but I must take my little laugh. I told him I guessed I wa'n't persent'ble anyhow, my mustache and my boots wa'n't blacked this mornin'. I don't jest like t' talk about my legs.— Be you a-goin' to take your young school folks, Polly?
Polly.
Dear no! I told my boys and girls to march up this way with the band. I said I'd be a-stayin' home and learnin' how to keep school in the woodpile here with you.
Link [looking up at her proudly].
Schoolma'am at seventeen! Some smart, I tell ye!