“Luce,” said the boy, “she writ yer a letter and sont it by Dick Weems las’ Sadday.”
Liz and Bet regarded their father silently. His face was a curious mixture of chagrin, earnestness and baffled determination. He had said Liz should not read the letter; yet he must know the contents now; and how to do it without disclosing to the boy his ignorance of learning?
“I ain’t but jes’ got the letter a little bit ago,” he said, lying lamely as Liz’s eyes were upon him. “Liz, thar, wuz jes’ about ter read it when we seen yer er comin’—I ain’t seein’ very well sence that spell I had o’ the yaller janders.” He brushed an awkward hand across his eyes. “Read it, Liz—ef yer kin!”
But this time the girl did not retort; her curiosity invited nothing that would delay its satisfying.
“Ef yer mean what yer sed las’ Sunday,” she read, spelling out the words slowly, “ther ain’t no time ter lose. Gran’pap Bozeman wuz berried yistidy, an’ no sooner wuz he in the groun’ than Hiram he sez the place is hisn now, an’ ef I’m goin ter stay on here I got ter marry him next Chuseday when ’Squire Stark comes here. Which I’ll die fust, fer I ain’t goin’ ter marry no cuzzen. In pertickler I ain’t goin’ ter marry Hiram Bozeman which I do despise fer the meanest man on this mountain. Ef yer ment what yer sed, then yer kin come ter the big spring Monday nite an’ I’ll be waitin’ fer yer in the shadder er the ole chestnut. Ef yer ain’t thar by nine o’clock thar won’t be nothin’ fer me ter do but ter run away, which I will, so help me God afore I’ll marry him as sez I must.”
“You will no hoo this is frum fer the name is writ on the outside.”
Gabe sat during the reading as if stupefied, but when Liz had finished and held out to him the scrawled sheet, he rose. He looked at the sun; it was five o’clock and a good three hours to Bozeman’s when the mare was fresh; he would have to take it easy, for there was the return trip with the double burden. “Lord!” he ejaculated under his breath, and threw a leg over the animal’s lean flank.
“I ain’t got no hat,” said the boy. “I dropped it fordin’ the crick an’ this pesky critter wouldn’t let me git it—orneriest mule I ever see!”
“I got ter git my saddle an’ bridle. Come on an’ I’ll find yer a hat,” answered Gabe, as he put off in the direction of his stable, followed by the other. And in a few minutes the two returning passed Liz and Bet still sitting in a state of bewilderment by the side of the overturned hay load. As they gazed after the disappearing figures Liz turned to Bet, a growing horror in her wide eyes.
“That’s one o’ Gran’pap’s ole hats he’s got on!” she said in an awe-struck voice.