t take airter none er the Pringles," she said after a while,
by way of explanation. "They hain't never bin a day when I couldn't
look at Teague 'thout battin' my eyes, an' ma use to say she 'uz thes
that away 'bout pap. I never know'd what the all-overs wuz tell thes
about a hour before me an' Teague wuz married. We 'uz thes about ready
for to go an' face the preacher, when ma comes a-rushin' in--an' she
won't never be no paler when she's laid out than she wuz right that
minnit. 'In the name er the Lord, ma, is you seed a ghost?' s' I.
'Puss!' se' she, 'the cake hain't riz!' I thes tell you what, folks, I
like to a-went through the floor--that I did!"

At this Sis looked up and laughed, and they all laughed except Puss,
who eyed Woodward with an air of faint curiosity, and dryly remarked--

"I reckon you hain't brung me my maccaboy snuff. I lay me an' my snuff
wan't in your min'. 'Let the old hen cluck,' ez the sparrer-hawk said
when he courted the pullet. Well," she continued, smiling with genuine
satisfaction as she saw that Woodward no more than half-relished the
comparison, "I better be seein' about dinner. Ol' folks like me can't
live on love."

The days that followed were very happy ones for the two young people--
and for the two old people for that matter. Teague enjoyed the
situation immensely. He would watch the young lovers from afar, and
then go off by himself and laugh heartily at his own conceits. He was
very proud that Sis was going to marry Somebody--a very broad term, as
the old mountaineer employed it. At night when they all sat around the
fire (spring on Hog Mountain bore no resemblance to summer) Teague gave
eager attention to Woodward's stories, and laughed delightedly at his
silliest jokes.

If Teague was delighted with Woodward, he was astounded at Sis. She was
no longer the girl that her surroundings seemed to call for. She was a
woman, and a very delightful one. From the old scholar, whom fate or
circumstance had sent to preside over the Gullettsville Academy, she
had caught something of the flavour and grace of cultivation--a gentle
dignity, leaning always to artlessness, and a quick appreciation, which
was in itself a rare accomplishment.

The day for the wedding was set, and Woodward went his way to Atlanta.
He had urged that the ceremony be a very quiet one, but Teague had
different views, and he beat down all opposition.

"Why, good Lord, Cap'." he exclaimed, "what 'ud the boys say?--P