“I waked not until broad daylite.”
Now what do you suppose I found? Jobe was not there, but that spare bed had been okepied that very nite. Then it was that I realized that the two old parties, as it were, had been divided—divided for one nite on the money question. Yes, Jobe Gaskins and his wife Betsy, a Dimicrat and Republican, had slept beneath the same roof and in seperate beds.
While I stood there, contemplatin what next to do and where Jobe might be, I heered him come onto the back porch. I met him with a smile as he come into the kitchen.
Says I: “Why, Jobe, where have you been?”
“Feedin—feedin, of course,” says he; “where do you suppose Ive been?” lookin at the floor and walkin apast me.
Arter reflection thinks I, “’Tis best to say nothin to him about the split in the two old parties until a future date.” So I jist went about it and prepared the mornin meal, thinkin all the time of a dream I had that nite, some time between bed-time and daylite, while I lay there all alone, while the pardner of my life okepied the spare bed.
“Feedin,—feedin, of course,” says he.
Well, while Jobe was partakin of his mornin repast, I saw all the time that he wanted to say something. I never said a word durin the whole meal, neither did Jobe. We jist set and eat—eat in silence.