Toward the end, when you kinder gathered her up and she sorter
dropped her head into your breast-pocket, and seemed to go to sleep,
like ez ef she was still a little girl, it so reminded me of the times
when I used to tote her myself walkin' by the waggin at Platt River,
that it made me wish the old woman was here to see it."
Still coloring, the master cast a rapid, sidelong glance at McKinstry's
dark red face and beard, but in the slow satisfaction of his features
there was no trace of that irony which the master's self-consciousness
knew.
"Then your wife is not here?" said Mr. Ford abstractedly.
"She war at church. She reckoned that I'd do to look arter Cressy--she
bein', so to speak, under conviction. D'ye mind walkin' this way a bit;
I want to speak a word with ye?" He put his maimed hand through the
master's arm, after his former fashion, and led him to a corner.
"Did ye happen to see Seth Davis about yer?"
"I believe I saw him a moment ago," returned Mr. Ford half
contemptuously.
"Did he get off anythin' rough on ye?"
"Certainly not," said the master haughtily.
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