Hazel smiled pityingly. "The frost will kill 'em before they get a chance to ripen. It can't hold off much longer. Do you realize it's nearly October, Bill? We almost had frost last night."
"Winter's coming."
"Election will be here first. Uncle Tom says you're sure to be elected. My, how important you'll be. Will you speak to a feller then, Bill?"
"I might. You never can tell. Seen Riley lately?"—elaborately casual.
"Saw him last Sunday. To look at him now you'd never know he'd been shot, would you? He's coming to dinner to-day—has some business with Uncle Tom."
"Yeah, like the rest of 'em. Fen dubs on the chicken-house. You said I could help you with that, remember."
Hazel nodded. "Here comes Riley now."
"No," said Billy, when Riley, having put his horse in the corral, made as if to step over him. "You stay right here. She's busy. She doesn't want a long, lazy lump like you clutterin' up her nice clean kitchen. Sidown on the step next mine. I don't care how close you sit."
"But I do," returned Riley, seating himself opposite his friend. "Last time I sat next you I lost my tobacco. Good thing my watch wasn't on that side."
"Shucks, that watch!" Bill said scornfully. "It was good maybe when your grandad had it. It must have cost him two dollars easy."