“Talbert!” they exclaimed in one astonished voice.
“I allowed it would take your breath to hear that John Goodloe’s daughter had married Jeems Talbert’s son,” Anne said, smiling.
“When we were over on Clinch the Goodloes and Talberts were mortal enemies. There was constant trouble between them, and not a Talbert would ever come inside our tent simply because it was on Goodloe land.”
“Yes,” said Anne; “forty year’ they have been at war—ever since Paw and Jeems fell out over a gal, and shot each other all up.”
Christine had gathered the sunbonnets, and placed a chair for Anne, who now sat down, smoothed and recoiled her abundant yellow hair, and proceeded to give her man-child his dinner, the little girls ranging themselves silently on a bench, still in step formation, and gazing about them with big eyes and bobbing pigtails.
“There was some little shooting going on when we were there,” continued the heads, “and five years previous the two eldest sons had killed each other in an engagement.”
“Yes,” replied Anne; “that was a mighty sorry time when the boys on both sides got sizable enough to take up their paps’ war—a sorry time it was for both Goodloes and Talberts.” She sighed deeply.
“Doubtless they made peace later, or you would not have married a Talbert?”
Drawn by F. R. Gruger. Half-tone plate engraved by R. C. Collins