Yet
to hear Mr. Mullen talk in the pulpit, you'd think that natur was all
hoppin' an' skippin'."
"You're a wicked unbeliever," said Reuben, mildly sorrowful, "an' you
ought to go home and pray over your thankless doubts."
"I'm as I was made," rejoined the other. "I didn't ax to be born
an' I've had to work powerful hard for my keep." Taking the glass of
blackberry wine from Molly's hand, he smacked his lips over it with
lingering enjoyment.
"Do you feel better, grandfather?" inquired the girl, in the pause.
"The wine does me good, honey, but thar's a queer gone feelin' inside
of me. I'm twenty years younger than you, old Adam, but you've got mo'
youth left in you than I have."
"'Tis my powerful belief in the Lord," chuckled the elder, wiping his
mouth with the back of his hand and placing the glass on the end of the
bench. "No, no, Reuben, when it comes to that I ain't any quarrel with
folks for lookin' al'ays at the pleasant side, but what staggers me is
why they should take it as a merit to themselves when 'tis nothin' less
than a weakness of natur. A man might jest as well pride himself that he
can't see out of but one eye or hear out of but one ear as that he can't
see nothin' but good when evil is so mixed up into it.
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