“I’m s’prised ter hear ye say so,” declared Mrs. Purvine, tart from her renewed conflicts with the bag. “I ain’t sick, bless the Lord, but I wanted ye ter kem down hyar an’ bide with me, an’ I knowed I couldn’t tole ye out’n that thar Eden, ez ye call Wild-Cat Hollow, ’thout purtendin’ ter be nigh dead. So I jes’ held my han’ ter my side an’ tied up my head, an’ hollered ter Ben Doaks ez he went by. He looked mighty sorry fur me!” A faint smile flickered across her broad face. “I hed laid off ter go ter bed afore you-uns kem, though. I will say fur ye ez ye travel toler’ble fas’. Yes, sir!” she went on, after a momentary pause. “I live in a ongrateful worl’. I hev ter gin out I’m dyin’ ter git my own niece ter kem ter see me. An’ thar’s that thar Jerry Price, ez I hev raised from a ill-convenient infant ez won’t do nuthin’ I say, nor marry nobody I picks out fur him. I’ll be boun’ he wouldn’t hev no say-so ’bout’n it ef his aunt Melindy Jane hed hed the raisin’ of him. An’ Bluff ez good ez ’lowed this mornin’ ez he’d hook me ef I didn’t quit foolin’ in his bucket o’ bran,—’kase I ’lowed ez mebbe the saaft-soap gourd war drapped in it, bein’ ez I couldn’t find it nowhar, an’ I war afear’d ’twouldn’t agree with the critter’s insides. An’ thar’s that rooster,”—he was now out among the weeds,—“he war a aig ez got by accident inter a tur-r-key’s nest, an’ when he war hatched she wouldn’t hev him; an’ ez I hed no hen ez war kerryin’ o’ chickens his size, _I_ hed ter care fur him. I useter git up in my bare feet in the middle o’ a winter night ter kiver up that thar rooster in a bat o’ cotton, fur he war easy ter git cold, an’ he could holler ez loud ez a baby. An’ arter all, he kem hyar an’ eat up ’bout haffen my dish-rag-gourd seed! I dunno what in Moses’ name is kem o’ the other bags. Never mind!”—she shook her head as she addressed the jaunty and unprescient fowl,—“I’ll git up the heart ter kill ye some day; an’ ef I can’t eat ye, bein’ so well acquainted with ye, I’ll be boun’ Jerry kin.” Alethea, apprised how precious the seeds were, began to gather them up as she sat on the step. “Listen ter Jerry, now!” exclaimed Mrs. Purvine, with whom the world had evidently gone much amiss to-day. “Needn’t tell me he don’t hurt Bluff’s feelins, callin’ him names whilst ploughing an’ yellin’ at him like a plumb catamount. Ef Bluff hedn’t treated me like he done this mornin’, I’d go thar an’ make Jerry shet up.” Now and then the ox and the man at the plough-tail came into view at the end of the field that sloped down to the road. One of aunt Dely’s boys was dropping corn in the furrow, and the other followed with a hoe and covered the grain in. Alethea watched them with the interest of a practical farmer. Aunt Dely, too, looked up, repeating the old formula:— “One fur the cut-worm an’ one fur the crow, Two fur the blackbird an’ one fur ter grow.”