“‘That’s what it is,’ sez I. ’I haven’t waited till I’m old enough to have gran’children to l’arn my a b c’s.’
“She snatched the socks frum me, an’ I ‘lowed she wus goin’ to throw ’em away, but she turned ’em upside down an’ helt ’em before my eyes. ‘Do you call that a M?’ sez she, an’ shore ’nough it was as plain a W as I ever laid eyes on.
“‘Oh!’ sez I, ’now I see. Do you want me to give ’em to John Westerfelt?’
“But she wouldn’t say narry a word. I seed how the land lay, fer I knowed she’d ruther die, religion ur no religion, ’an come right out in so many words an’ say she wus sorry. You know I believe as I’m a-settin’ heer ‘at thar’ll be folks meetin’ on the golden sands of eternity, by the River of Life, ’at’ll pass one another with the’r noses in the air; but I’ll take that back. I reckon thar won’t be no noses, nur no air, as fer that matter; folks that’s read up on sech matters says everything will be different. The Lord knows I hope it will be. I want a change. But I am gettin’ away frum Mis’ Dawson. Then I up an’ told ‘er p’int-blank I wus goin’ to give the socks to you with the compliments of the day, an’ ef she objected she’d better put in ‘er complaint in time, but she jest walked back an’ set down in front o’ the stand. John, she’s that sorry fer all she’s said and done ’at she can’t talk about it. These heer socks is all the proof you need. I don’t think she wants to meet you face to face nuther. She’s goin’ home in the mornin’ in Sam Hambright’s wagon. Lord! Peter Slogan an’ his wife never ’ll know what to make uv ’er. I’d give a purty to be thar when she comes, fer they won’t know she’s converted, an’ she’d be strung up by the toes ruther ’n tell ’em right out.”
Mrs. Bradley stood up, and then quickly sat down again. “I thought I’d get them socks out’n the dinner-basket, but I heer Luke a-comin’. He’s like a fish out o’ water. He seed me a-takin’ on with Mis’ Dawson, an’ he thinks I’ve got a fresh dose o’ religion. I didn’t let ’im know no better, an’ he wus grum all the way home. He can’t put up with a Christian of the excitable sort. Hush, don’t say a word; watch me devil him, but ef you don’t keep a straight face I’ll bust out laughin’. Lordy, I feel good somehow—I reckon it’s beca’se yo’re shet o’ that old woman’s persecutions.”
Just then Bradley entered and laid his hat on the bed. Westerfelt now noticed the unsettled expression of his face and smiled as he thought of the innocent cause of it.