e fire, smiling. The woman started
forward facing him, and clasping her hands, cried, "My husband! What'd
he have on?"

"Wa'al," said David slowly and reminiscently, "near's I c'n remember, he
had on a blue broad-cloth claw-hammer coat with flat gilt buttons, an'
a double-breasted plaid velvet vest, an' pearl-gray pants, strapped down
over his boots, which was of shiny leather, an' a high pointed collar
an' blue stock with a pin in it (I remember wonderin' if it c'd be real
gold), an' a yeller-white plug beaver hat."

At the description of each article of attire Mrs. Cullom nodded her
head, with her eyes fixed on David's face, and as he concluded she broke
out breathlessly, "Oh, yes! Oh, yes! David, he wore them very same
clo'es, an' he took me to that very same show that very same night!"
There was in her face a look almost of awe, as if a sight of her
long-buried past youth had been shown to her from a coffin.

Neither spoke for a moment or two, and it was the widow who broke the
silence. As David had conjectured, she was interested at last, and sat
leaning forward with her hands clasped in her lap.

"Well," she exclaimed, "ain't ye goin' on? What did he say to ye?"

"Cert'nly, cert'nly," responded David, "I'll tell ye near 's I c'n
remember, an' I c'n remember putty near. As I told ye, I felt a twitch
at my hair, an' he said, 'What be you thinkin' about, sonny?' I looked
up at him, an' looked away quick. 'I dunno,' I says, diggin' my big toe
into the dust; an' then, I dunno how I got the spunk to, for I was shyer
'n a rat, 'Guess I was thinkin' 'bout mendin' that fence up in the
ten-acre lot's much's anythin',' I says.

"'Ain't you goin' to the cirkis?' he says.

"'I hain't got no money to go to cirkises,' I says, rubbin' the dusty
toes o' one foot over t' other, 'nor nothin' else,' I says.

"'Wa'al,' he says, 'why don't you crawl under the canvas?'

"That kind o' riled me, shy 's I was. 'I don't crawl under no canvases,'
I says. 'If I can't go in same 's other folks, I'll stay out,' I says,
lookin' square at him fer the fust time. He wa'n't exac'ly smilin', but
the' was a look in his eyes that was the next thing to it."

"Lordy me!" sighed Mrs. Cullom, as if to herself. "How well I can
remember that look; jest as if he was laughin' at ye, an' wa'n't
laughin' at ye, an' his arm around your neck!"

David nodded in reminiscent sympathy, and rubbed his bald poll with the
back of his hand.

"Wa'al," interje