“O!” says she, “it’s my new calico gownd you was a-thinking of. Ain’t it pretty?”
“Oh!” says I “ ’tis a sweet pretty gownd,” says I. “But—I finally concluded to set up store and get married, and settle myself down as a merchant for life—”
At this, Hannah hung down her head and gave a snicker. “And how does all that put you in mind of me, John?” says she.
“Guess.”
“I won’t guess to touch to, so there now—I never!”
What I said, and what she said next, is all lost, for I’ll be shot if I can remember. It’s all buz, buz, in my head, like a dream. The first thing I knew, we were right again Captain Peabody’s barn, walking as close together as we could with comfort, and our arms crossed round each other’s waist. Hannah’s tongue had got thawed out, and was running like a brook on a freshet, and all one steady stream of honey. I vow, I was ready to jump out of my skin.
It was a mile and a half from Aunt Molly’s to Captain Peabody’s, and I thought we had been about a minute on the road. So says I: “Hannah, let’s go set down under the great apple-tree and have-a little chat, just to taper off the evening.” We now sat down and began to talk sensible. We settled all the predicaments of the nuptial ceremony, and then talked over the store till we thought we saw ourselves behind the counter; I weighing and measuring, and dickering and dealing out, and she, at the desk, pen in hand, figuring up the accounts. “And mind, John,” says she, “I’m not a-going to trust everybody at the corner, I tell ye.” But just as we were beginning to get sociable, as I thought, Hannah looks up, and says she: “What can that ’ere great red streak be, in the sky, away down there beyond Sacarrap?”
“I rather guess,” says I, “it’s a fire in the woods.”
“Fire in the woods! I’ll be skinned if it isn’t daylight a-coming. Quick, John, help me into the window before father’s a-stirring, or here’ll be a pretty how d’ye do.”
The next job was to tell the news to Captain Peabody. Hannah had settled it that she should speak to her mother, and said she could manage her well enough, and it was my business to ask her father. This was a thing easier said than done. It stuck in my crop for days, like a raw onion. I tried to persuade Hannah to marry fust, and ask afterwards. Says I: “You are twenty-four, and free according to law.” But she wouldn’t hear to it. She had no notion of doing anything clandestinely. Then I asked Doctor Dingley to go and break the ice for me. But no: he would not meddle with other folks’ business—he made it a point.