"Well, she said I certainly had—that I had—a hard trial this trip, and I'd served my time so faithfully it would be a comfort and a pleasure to—now, Marthy, I know my tea's cold."
It took him so long to have his tea and wash the dishes and bring in the squashes for fear of frost that Marthy had no further opportunity to consider the new position of her husband as an engaged man that night. She resumed the subject early the next morning.
"Andrew, I want you should go and bring Abilonia over here as soon as you git the work done up. There's so much I want to arrange with her, and you never know what day'll be to-morrow. And them moths ought to be seen to right off—
"What be you goin' up stairs for? You needn't put on your Sunday clothes jest for that. She'll have to see you in your old clothes many a year after you're—ah—when she comes to live here."
"Yes, but that's not now. I'm only engaged to her; I'm only sort of courtin' now, as you might say."
He came back in a little while, bringing a gentle, brown-eyed young woman, who laid away her things and took an apron from her bag with the air of one accustomed to do for others.
"Did you want to see me particularly, Mis' Dobson? I hope you're not feelin' worse?"
"I do' know's I slep' much las' night, and I have an awful funny feelin' round my heart this mornin'. I'm preparin' for the worst. You know 'Two men shall be grindin' at the mill and'—"
"Oh, now, you aren't so bad as all that. You look as smart as a spring robin—you do look wonderful well, Mis' Dobson. Now, what can I do for you?"
"There's a lot of things to look after, Abilonia, now that you—that you—that—"