“Well, youve got to go,” says he. “Are you a goin?”
“I cant,” says I.
“Here, men,” says he, “take her out of here and out yonder, where she belongs.”
So one of them big men took hold of one arm, and the other hold of the other arm, and pulled me away from the winder where I was standin (the same one where I was standin the mornin Jobe left), and pulled me out of that dear old kitchen door and across the yard and out into the big road, where they had piled my things, and sot me down on a chair.
The sheriff had locked the house and follered them out.
When he came out he says, as though he wanted to be friendly: “Where do you think of goin to, Mrs. Gaskins?”
I looked at him to see if he was crazy or what, but I couldent speak, I was so full.
Says he: “Do you want the boys to put up your bed for you?”
I nodded my head.
They set my bed up and put two jints of pipe on my stove, and then got in their buggy and went to town. It was nearly sundown when they left me.