“I sha 'n' t have time, if I go to town to-night,” replied Alan. “I have something to do at home first.”
“Then I won't keep you,” Dolly smiled, “for you must go and meet Rayburn Miller. I'm going to hope that he has had good luck in Atlanta.”
The world had never seemed so full of joy and hope as Alan rode homeward. The sun was setting in glorious splendor beyond the towering mountains, above which the sky seemed an ocean of mother-of-pearl and liquid gold. Truly it was good to be alive. At the bars he met Abner Daniel with a fishing-cane in his hands, his bait-gourd under his arm.
“I know right whar you've been,” he said, with a broad smile, as he threw down the bars for Alan to pass through. “I seed that gang drive by in all the'r flurry this mornin', the queen bee in the lead with that little makeshift of a man.”
Alan dismounted to prevent his uncle from putting up the bars, and they walked homeward side by side.
“Yes, and I've had the time of my life,” said the young man. “I talked to her for a solid hour.”
“I could see that in yore face,” said Abner, quietly. “You couldn't hide it, an' I 'll bet she didn't lose time in lettin' you know what she never could hide from me.”
“We understand each other better now,” admitted Alan.
“Well, I've certainly set my heart on the match—on gittin' her in our family,” affirmed Abner. “Durn-ed ef—I declare, sometimes I'm afeerd I'm gone on 'er myse'f. Yes, I want you 'n' her to make it. I want to set an' smoke an' chaw on yore front porch, an' heer her back in the kitchen fryin' ham an' eggs, an',” the old man winked, “I don't know as I'd object to trottin' some 'n' on my knee, to sorter pass the time betwixt meals.”
“Oh, come off, Uncle Ab!” said Alan, with a flush, “that's going too far.”