Turnin from them rooms, I walked around the yard, lookin at the fence, the well, the coal-house, and the things that had been mine. Then, comin to the front yard, I come to the little white rose-bush; it seemed to look at me pleadin like. I started to go on, but I couldent. That rose-bush seemed to call me back. So I jist got me a sharp stick and dug it up, and took it down to where my things were and wrapped it up in a cloth.
When I got back to the big road, and was settin there wonderin what Ide do, how long Ide have to live there in the big road, where Ide go to and sich, Constable Bill Adams come a ridin by.
When he got up to me, says he:
“Why, Mrs. Gaskins, what are you a doin with all this stuff piled in the road?”
“Ime livin here,” says I.
“Well, youle have to git this stuff out of the road,” says he. “You darent obstruct the public highway. Its dangerous to have a pile of stuff like this in the big road; its liable to scare horses, and somebody might git hurt or killed. Its aginst the law, Mrs. Gaskins, its aginst the law, and you will have to move it.”
“The law put it here,” says I.
“No matter,” says he; “youle have to git out of here, or youle be arrested.”
“Where will I put it?”
“How do I know?” says he. “Youle have to look out for that yourself. Git it out of here, and that mighty quick, or you will git yourself into trouble.”