We went up to the old white, hovering house, and while Mammy and I planned and in a measure mixed breakfast for the multitude down the hill, daddy and Dr. Chubb went with Sam, who had slipped on his overalls, to look at the new mules tied out behind the barn to long temporary stable poles.  The Byrd I could not get from the company down by the spring.  Later Mammy had to go down and extract him, fast asleep, from the midst of the largest Belgian family, where he was watched over tenderly by the fierce-eyed woman and the mother of the twins.

I had wiped the meal off my hands and taken off Mammy’s apron when Sam came to the door and called me; and I felt very much as I used to when at school I went in to get my examination marks, as I followed him down to Peter’s shack on the hillside.  I wasn’t one bit afraid of Samuel Foster Crittenden, I told myself, while I walked along behind him as he held the coral-strung buck-bushes out of my path; but my knees did tremble, and my teeth chattered so that I felt sure he would hear them.

For a long moment Sam stood in front of the shack and looked out over to Paradise Ridge.  I knew that now was the time for me to marshal up my defense and demand to be put on the same footing in life with those peasant women sleeping below us beside the covered camp-fires.

“What right has any man to say that a woman shall not plow and sow and reap and dig if she wants to, and especially if it is so much in her blood that she can’t keep away from it?” I was just getting ready to demand.  Then suddenly Sam sobbed, choked, sobbed again, and reached out his arms to fold me in against the sobs so closely that I could feel them rising out of his very heart.

“Betty, Betty,” he fairly groaned, with his face pressed close to mine.  A tear wet my cheek, larger and warmer than the ones which were beginning to drip from my own eyes.

“I can’t help it, Sam,” I sobbed.  “I will be just as good as any of the other women; but I want a—­a mule and twenty acres here with you.  I don’t feel safe anywhere else.  I might starve, away from you.”

And then, very quietly, very surely, I found out what it was I had been hungry for and thirsty for, what it was I had been used to having fed me ever since I could remember—­it was Sam’s love.  He held me close, then closer for a long second—­and then he pressed his lips on mine until I knew what it was to feel—­fed.

“My woman,” he said, when at last I turned my face away for breath and to get room to raise my arms around his neck and hold on tight until I could get used to being certain that he was there.

“I tried to let you give me away, Sam, but I couldn’t,” I said, with a dive into the breast of his overalls, which had that glorious barn and field—­was it cosmic he told me to call it?—­smell.

“When I’ve loved you a little longer I’m going to shake the life out of you for this mix-up,” said Sam, hollowing his long arms and breast still deeper to fold me fast.