“Good-mornin', Mr. Tyler. Fine mornin'.”
“Ya'as; but I'm erfeared we're goin' ter hev rain in er day er two. I feel ruther rheumaticky this mornin', er mighty shore sign that rain ain't fur off. Want milk fer breakfus, Mandy Calline? Well, fetch here yer pitcher.”
A shy “good-mornin”' had passed between Mandy Calline and Zekle, and he sauntered up beside her, taking the pitcher, and as they stepped over the bars Father Tyler, hospitably inclined, said: “Take breakfus with us, Zekle? I lay Malviny 'll hev ernuff cooked ter give yer er bite.”
With assumed hesitation Zekle accepted the invitation, and he and Mandy Calline passed on to the house, he carefully carrying the pitcher of milk.
He cleared his throat a time or two, and remarked again on the beauty of the morning, to which she rather nervously assented; then suddenly, the words seemingly shot out of him: “Mandy Calline, I'm goin' ter ask th' ole folks ter-day. What yer say?”
Mandy Calline was red as a turkey-cock, to which was now added a nervous confusion which bade fair to overwhelm her.
“It's too soon, Zekle. Whyn't yer wait er while?” she replied, tremblingly.
“No, 'tain't too soon,” he answered, promptly. “I want it all done 'n' over with, then I sh'll feel mo' like ye b'long ter me. I'm goin' ter ask 'em ter-day; yer needn't say not. I know you're erfeared o' th' teasin'. But ye needn't min' that; ye won't hev ter put up wi' it long; fer th' way I mean ter work on that house ter git it done—well, 'twon't be long befo' it 'll be ready ter put my wife in it.”
“Well, Zekle,” said the girl, hesitatingly, “ef ye'd ruther ask 'em ter-day, why—I guess es how—ye mought es well do it. But let's go 'n' tell gra'mammy now; somehow I'd ruther she knowed it fust.”
“We will,” replied Zekle, promptly.