craving its depths, so immediate a
joy, so intense a light, were in her widely open eyes; her lips were
parted; the spray of blackberry leaves that she held near her cheek
did not quiver, so had her interest petrified every muscle. She was
leaning slightly forward; her red sunbonnet had fallen to the ground,
and the wind tossed her dark brown hair till the heavy masses, with
their curling ends disheveled, showed tendrils of golden hue. Her
round, plump arm was like ivory. The torn sleeve fell away to the
elbow, and her mother, glancing out of the window, took remorseful
heed of it, and wished that she herself had set a stitch in it.

"The'dosia shows herself so back'ard 'bout mendin', an' sech--she air
enough ter skeer any man away. An' Justus knows jes' what sech
laziness means. Kin mend clothes hisse'f ez good ez the nex' one, an'
useter do it too, strong an' taut, with a double thread, whenst the
fambly war leetle chil'n an' gin ter bustin' out'n thar gear."

But Justus took no note of the significance of the torn sleeve.

"Why, 'Dosia," he went on, "everybody 'lowed ez Wat's speeches seemed
ter sense what the people wanted ter hear. Him an' me we'd talk it
over the night before, an' Wat he'd write down what we said on paper
an' mem'rize it; an' the nex' day, why, folks that wouldn't hev
nuthin' ter say ter him afore he spoke would be jes' aidgin' up
through the crowd ter git ter shake han's with him."

She smiled with delight at the picture. If it were sweet to him to
praise, how sweet it was to her to listen! "Tell on!" she said softly.

Her interest flattered him; it enriched the reminiscence, dear though
his memory held it. He had no doubt as to the unity of feeling with
which they both regarded the incidents he chronicled. He went on with
the certainty of responsive sentiment, the ease, the serenity of a man
who opens his heart to the woman he loves.

"Why, 'Dosia," he said, "often, often if it hed n't been fur the
folks, I could hev run up an' dragged him off'n the rostrum an' hugged
him fur pride, he looked so han'some an' spoke so peart! An' ter think
't war jes' our leetle Wat--the Fambly's leetle Wat--growed up ter be
sech a man! Ye'll laff at me--other folks did--whenst I tell ye that
ag'in an' ag'in I jes' cotch' myse'f cheerin' with the loudest. I
could n't holp it."

"He'll be 'lected, Justus?" she breathlessly inquired, and yet
imperatively, as if, even though she asked, she would brook no denia