Even his
aching heart seemed to recognize her authority, and to obtrude itself
with a sense of embarrassment into surroundings where all mental
maladies were outlawed. She was on her knees busily sorting a pile of
sweet potatoes, which she suspected of having been frost-bitten; and by
sheer force of character, she managed to convince the despairing lover
that a frost-bitten potato was a more substantial fact than a broken
heart.
"I declar' if the last one of 'em ain't specked! I knew 'twould be so
when they was left out thar in the smoke-house that cold spell. Abel,
all those sweet potatoes you left out in the smoke-house have been
nipped."
"Well, I don't care a hang!" retorted Abel, as he unwrapped his muffler.
"If it isn't one thing, it's another. You're enough to drive a sober man
to drink."
"If you don't care, I'd like to know who ought to," responded Sarah,
whose principal weapon in an argument was the fact that she was always
the injured person. "It seems that 'twas all yo' fault since you put 'em
thar."
"You'd better give him some supper--he looks almost played out,"
observed Abner from a corner of the hearth, where he sat smoking with
his head hanging on his chest.
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