her skirt, she laughed with her hands clasping her narrow, hollow waist,
laughed with her head down on her knees and her fluffy hair tumbling
over it. Abner was relieved, and yet it seemed strange to him that this
revelation of his temper should provoke such manifest incredulity in
both Byers and Mary Ellen. But perhaps these things would be made plain
to him hereafter; at present they must be accepted "in the day's work"
and tolerated.
"Your temper," gurgled Mary Ellen. "Saints alive! What kind o' temper?"
"Well, I reckon," returned Abner submissively, and selecting a word
to give his meaning more comprehension,--"I reckon it was
kinder--aggeravokin'."
Mary Ellen sniffed the air for a moment in speechless incredulity, and
then, locking her hands around her knees and bending forward, said,
"Look here! Ef that old woman o' yours ever knew what temper was in a
man; ef she's ever bin tied to a brute that treated her like a nigger
till she daren't say her soul was her own; who struck her with his
eyes and tongue when he hadn't anythin' else handy; who made her life
miserable when he was sober, and a terror when he was drunk; who at
last drove her away, and then divorced her for desertion--then--then she
might talk. But 'incompatibility o' temper' with you! Oh, go away--it
makes me sick!"
How far Abner was impressed with the truth of this, how far it prompted
his next question, nobody but Abner knew. For he said deliberately, "I
was only goin' to ask ye, if, knowin' I was a di-vorced man, ye would
mind marryin' me!"
Mary Ellen's face changed; the evasive instincts of her sex rose up.
"Didn't I hear ye sayin' suthin' about refreshments," she said archly.
"Mebbe you wouldn't mind gettin' me a bottle o' lemming sody outer the
bar!"
Abner got up at once, perhaps not dismayed by this diversion, and
departed for the refreshment. As he passed along the side veranda the
recollection of Mr. Byers and his mysterious flight occurred to him. For
a wild moment he thought of imitating him. But it was too late now--he
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