“It ain't no triflin' matter,” admitted Daniel. “Thar's no tellin' how many thousand acres he may have bought; he's keepin' somethin' to hisse'f. I remember jest when that durn skunk of a lawyer put that flea in his yeer. They was at Hanson's mill, an' talked confidential together mighty nigh all mornin'. But let's not cross a bridge tell we git to it. Let's talk about some'n else. I hain't never had a chance to tell you, but I seed that gal in town yesterday, an' talked to 'er.”
“Did you, Uncle Ab?” the face of the young man brightened. His tone was eager and expectant.
“Yes, I'd hitched in the wagon-yard an' run into Hazen's drug-store to git a box o' axle-grease, an' was comin' out with the durn stuff under my arm when I run upon 'er a-settin' in a buggy waitin' to git a clerk to fetch 'er out a glass o' sody-water. She recognized me, an' fer no other earthly reason than that I'm yore uncle she spoke to me as pleasin' as a basket o' chips. What was I to do? I never was in such a plight in my life. I'd been unloadin' side-meat at Bartow's warehouse, an' was kivered from head to foot with salt and grease. I didn't have on no coat, an' the seat o' my pants was non est—I don't think thar was any est about 'em, to tell the truth; but I knowed it wouldn't be the part of a gentleman to let 'er set thar stretchin' 'er neck out o' socket to call a clerk when I was handy, so I wheeled about, hopin' an' prayin' ef she did look at me she'd take a fancy to the back o' my head, an' went in the store an' told 'em to git a hustle on the'r-se'ves. When I come out, she hauled me up to ax some questions about when camp-meetin' was goin' to set in this yeer, and when Adele was comin' home. I let my box o' axle-grease drap, an' it rolled like a wagon-wheel off duty, an' me after it, bendin'—bendin' of all positions—heer an' yan in the most ridiculous way. I tell you I'd never play croquet ur leapfrog in them pants. All the way home I thought how I'd disgraced you.”
“Oh, you are all right, Uncle Ab,” laughed Alan. “She's told me several times that she likes you very much. She says you are genuine—genuine through and through, and she's right.”
“I'd ruther have her say it than any other gal I know,” said Abner. “She's purty as red shoes, an', ef I'm any judge, she's genuwine too. I've got another idee about 'er, but I ain't a-givin' it away jest now.”
“You mean that she—”
“No,” and the old man smiled mischievously, “I didn't mean nothin' o' the sort. I wonder how on earth you could 'a' got sech a notion in yore head. I'm goin' to see how that black scamp has left my cotton land. I 'll bet he hain't scratched it any deeper'n a old hen would 'a' done lookin' fer worms.”