Herbert joined Kitty Silver in laughter. "Florence is always talkin'
about Noble Dill," he said. "She's sort of crazy, anyway, though."
[Illustration: _"Herbert attempted to continue the drowning out. He
bawled, 'She made it up! It's somep'n she made up herself! She----'"_]
"It runs in the family," Florence retorted, automatically. "I caught it
from my cousins. Anyhow, I don't think there's a single one of any that
wants to marry Aunt Julia that's got the slightest co'parison to Noble
Dill. I admire him because he's so uncouth."
"He so who?" Kitty Silver inquired.
"Uncouth."
"Yes'm," said Mrs. Silver.
"It's in the ditchanary," Florence explained. "It means rare, elegant,
exquisite, obs, unknown, and a whole lot else."
"It does not," Herbert interposed. "It means kind of countrified."
"You go look in the ditchanary," his cousin said severely. "Then, maybe,
you'll know what you're talkin' about just for once. Anyhow, I _do_ like
Noble Dill, and I bet so does Aunt Julia."
Kitty Silver shook her head. "He lose his struggle, honey! Miss Julia,
she out fer the big class. She ain't stedyin' about him 'cept maybe dess
to let him run her erran's. She treat 'em all mighty nice, 'cause the
mo' come shovin' an' pushin' each other aroun', class or no class, why,
the mo' harder that big class got to work to git her--an' the mo' she
got after her the mo' keeps a-comin'. But thishere young li'l Mista
Dills, I kine o' got strong notion he liable not come no mo' 'tall!" Her
tone had become one of reminiscent amusement, which culminated in a
burst of laughter. "Whee!" she concluded. "After las' night, I reckon
thishere Mista Dills better keep away from the place--yes'm!"
Florence looked thoughtful, and for the time said nothing. It was
Herbert who asked: "Why'd Noble Dill better stay away from here?"
"You' grampaw," Mrs. Silver said, shaking her head. "You' grampaw!"
"What about grandpa?" said Herbert. "What'd he do last night?"
"'Do'? Oh, me!" Then Mrs. Silver uttered sounds like the lowing of kine,
whereby she meant to indicate her inability to describe Mr. Atwater's
performance. "Well, ma'am," she said, in the low and husky voice of
simulated exhaustion, "all I got to say: you' grampaw beat hisse'f! He
beat hisse'f!"
"How d'you mean? How could he----"
"He beat hisse'f! He dess out-talk hisse'f! No, ma'am; I done hear him
many an' many an' many's the time, but las' night he beat hisse'f."
"What about?"
"Nothin' in the wide worl' but dess thishere young li'l Noble Dills whut
we talkin' about this livin' minute."
"What started him?"
"Whut _start_ him?" Mrs. Silver echoed with sudden loudness. "My
goo'niss! He _b'en_ started ev' since the very firs' time he ev' lay
eyes on him prancin' up the front walk to call on Miss Julia. You'
grampaw don' like none nem callers, but he everlas'n'ly did up an' take
a true spite on thishere li'l Dills!"
"I mean," said Herbert, "what started him last night?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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