'n' begun 'n' sharpened a hatchet most awful sharp. He thought as the hatchet would bring her anyhow, but still she did n't come out,—jus' stuck to her stickin' there in the window. I can't well see why he looked for her to come out because my view would be as if you did n't want a man aroun', the more ropes an' hatchets he was inclined to the more I 'd let him tie 'n' sharpen, but old Mrs. Ely was always another parts o' speech from me. She never could eat her own chickens, they say, nor sausage her own pigs, 'n' I s'pose he knowed her tender spots aforehand 'n' was layin' for 'em. Anyhow, to go back to him 'n' the grin'stone, he says you can't under no circumstances keep on sharpenin' a hatchet forever, 'n' so after a while he had to go on to the next part. He says he was beginnin' to feel kind o' shaky, but he took more line 'n' made a slip-noose 'n' tied it hard 'n' fast to the pole. He says he looked up real bright 'n' hopeful then, but still she did n't come out, 'n' he says he slid it up over his arm two or three times so she could n't but see as it was a noose too. Oh, my, but he says he did begin to feel mad at her then,—he says it wa'n't in reason as any man 'd be pleased at a woman's smilin' out of a window at him fixin' a noose in plain sight. He says he 'll leave it to any one dead or alive to get into his skin 'n' enjoy the way he was beginnin' to feel, but o' course he had to keep on with his plan, 'n' he says next he laid the hatchet handy an' set down (Oh, my, but he says the ground sent up a cold chill up his back!) 'n' tied his feet to the other upright. Well, he says that foot-tyin' was no joke, for he says he must of took fifteen minutes to it, for he was jus' about wild by this time, not knowin' what he would do if she did n't come out now. He says no one knows what it is to begin a thing as you count on surely havin' stopped 'n' then not be stopped a tall. He says as the sentiments as he begun to get was too awful for any ordinary words 'n' he would scorn to use the words as could describe 'em even if he knowed any such. Well, he says, at last, when he was through tyin' his feet, he turned 'n' looked at the window 'n' if she wa'n't gone to put up the jars, so he had no choice but to sit there on that cold ground 'n' wait for her to come back. He said he hoped I 'd never know what his feelin's was as he waited 'n' then he rubbed his chin with his hand a long time 'n' said all over again, 'as he waited.' I told him it was n't likely as I would, 'n' to look out for the cistern or he 'd know new feelin's 'n' a new kind of waitin', so he had to hitch back by the table again 'n' then he took a long breath before goin' on to the next part.

"Well, Mrs. Lathrop, he says when she come back 

 Prev. P 29/74 next