Part 7 (2/2)
Her quarry answered patiently, yet with a certain dogged resistance of her,--
”I dunno's there's anything to tell.”
”How'd it go off?”
”'Bout as usual.”
”Did you speak?”
”No.”
”Lead in prayer?”
”No.”
”Wa'n't you _asked_?”
”No.”
”Well, my soul! Was Roxy Cole there?”
”Yes.”
”Did you fetch her home?”
”No, I didn't!” Some mild exasperation animated his tone at last. The Widder detected it, and occupied herself with her tooth.
”My soul an' body! I wonder if it's goin' to grumble all night long!”
she exclaimed, bending lower over the blaze. ”I've tried everything but a roasted raisin, an' I b'lieve I shall come to that.”
Heman rose, and opened the clock on the mantel; he drew forth the key from under the pendulum, and slowly wound up the time-worn machinery.
In another instant, he would be on his way to bed; the Widder knew she must waste no time in hurt silence, if she meant to find out anything.
She began hastily,--
”Did they say anything about the church fair?”
”They ain't goin' to have it.”
”Not have it! Well, how _be_ they goin' to git the s.h.i.+nglin' paid for?”
”They've got up the idee of an Old Folks' Concert.”
”Singin'?”
”Singin' an' playin'.”
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