XLII
THE following evening about eight o'clock Floyd walked over to Baker's house. He found his friend seated alone before a big fire of red logs. “Hello! Come in, Nelson,” Pole called out, cordially, as he saw the young man through the open door-way. “Come in an' set down.”
The young merchant entered and took a vacant chair.
“How's your wife, Pole?” he asked.
“Huh, crazy, crazy—crazy as a bed-bug!” Baker laughed. “You'd think so ef you could see 'er. She spent all the evenin' at yore plantation, an' come home beamin' all over with what she's seed an' her plans.” The farmer jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the kitchen. “She's in thar packin' up scraps now. She knows we can't leave till day after to-morrow, but she says she wants to be doin' some'n' towards it, even ef she has to pack an' unpack an' pack again. My boy, she's the happiest creature God ever—I mean that you ever made, dern you. She has yore name on 'er tongue every minute in the day. You know she's always said she had as many childem as she wanted”—Pole laughed impulsively—“but she says now she'd go through it all ag'in ef she knowed it 'ud be a boy so she could call it after you.”
“Well, I certainly would take it as a great honor,” Floyd said. “Your children are going to make great men, Pole. They show it in their heads and faces.”
“Well, I hope so, Nelson.” Pole suddenly bent his head to listen. “That's Sally talkin' now,” he said, with a knowing smile. “She sometimes talks about all this to 'erse'f, she's so full of it, but she ain't talkin' to 'erse'f now. You kin bet yore bottom dollar she ain't, Nelson. I say she ain't an' I mean it, my boy.”
“Some one's in there, then?” said Floyd.
Pole looked steadily into the fire, not a muscle of his face changed. “Somebody come back from Cartersville this mornin',” he said, significantly.
Floyd's heart gave a big jump. “So I heard,” he said, under his breath.