"I reckon the cracklin' will make you feel mo' comfortable," she
observed. "Thar ain't anything like a lightwood fire to drive away the
misery."
"It does sound friendly," he responded.
For a moment she hesitated, groping apparently for some topic of
conversation which would divert his mind from one subject that engrossed
him.
"Archie's just come in," she remarked at last, "an' he walked up with
old Uncle Toby, who said he'd seen a ha'nt in the dusk over at Poplar
Spring. I don't see how Mrs. Gay an' Miss Kesiah can endure to live
thar."
"Oh, they're just darkies' tales--nobody believes in them any more than
in conjuring and witches."
"That's true, I reckon, but I shouldn't like to live over thar all
the same. They say old Mr. Jonathan comes out of his grave and walks
whenever one of 'em is to be buried or married."
"Nobody's dead that I've heard of, and I don't suppose either Mr.
Jonathan or Miss Kesiah are thinking of getting married."
"Well, I s'pose so--but I'm might glad he ain't taken the notion to walk
around here. I don't believe in ha'nts, but I ain't got no use for 'em."
She went out, closing the door after her; and dropping into a chair by
the fire, he buried his face in his hands, while he vowed in his heart
that he would stop thinking of Molly.
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