Page:Teeftallow-1926.djvu/42

"Oh, yes, you wuz."

"Where does she live?"

"In Arntown."

This information picked up Abner's spirits in a most extraordinary manner.

"She does—well, I be blamed!" A sort of warmth came into his face and he beamed on the old Squire. "Now, don't that beat you?"

"Ay, Lord," grunted the Squire misanthropically, turning to his endless gazing at the rumps of his mules. "The gal had to live some'er's."

Abner marvelled that he had got the girl's name after all—"Nessie Sutton" . . . a nice name, a pretty name—"Nessie Sutton." The syllables seemed to fill some empty space in his thoughts, to settle in his head as if they always had belonged there.

The old Squire gave his reins a twitch which did not provoke his mules out of the walk which was in keeping with this hour of the day.

"Ay, Lord," he said, shaking his head. "You young folks of this generation nee'n' be thinkin' about marryin' an' raisin' famblys." Here he reached into a pocket, drew out a disreputable pipe, looked at it, and put it back.

Abner listened to this opinion with a certain curiosity.

"Why hadn't we ought, Mr. Meredith?" he asked at length.

"'Cause you an' that gal ain't got no time to be marryin' in, that's why."

"Ain't got no time?" puzzled Abner. "Ain't we both young?"

"Ay, lad, you're young," assented the old man, "but this earth air in her last days, my boy. She ain't goin' to last long enough for no more marryin' an' givin' in marriage."

"Square Meredith, what in the worl' do you mean?" ejaculated Abner, straightening up out of the hump in which all hill folk ride a wagon.

"Why, Abner, I mean the worl's comin' to a end, my boy.