'What are you wearin' yo' Sunday best for, Mr. Doolittle?'
asked Mr. Jonathan, spry as a cricket. 'It's a fine weddin' I've been
to, Mr. Jonathan,' I answered, 'an' I've seen two lovin' hearts beatin'
as one befo' Mr. Mullen at the altar.' Then Reuben Merryweather's gal
called out right quickly, 'Whose weddin', old Adam?' an' when I replied,
'Abel Revercomb's,' as I was bound to, her face went as white as a han't
right thar befo' me---"
"You'd better go home or you won't be in any condition to walk there,"
said Abel angrily. "It's down right indecent to see a man of your age
rocking about in the road."
Turning quickly in his tracks, he went over the log again and on to the
loneliness of the meadows beyond.
"And she went as white as a haunt," he muttered under his breath.
CHAPTER VIII
A GREAT PASSION IN A HUMBLE PLACE
Time does not stand still even for the unhappily married. A man may
have wedded the wrong woman, but he comes down to his breakfast and goes
about his work as punctually as if he had wedded the right one. To Abel,
with the thought of Molly throbbing like a fever in his brain, it was
still possible to grind his grist and to subtract carefully the eighth
part as a toll--while Judy, hushed in day dreams, went on making
butter in a habit of absent-minded tranquillity.
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