"
"An' Sid'll get it--bet yer life he will--fer I ain't got no son
no more. A sneakin' hulk that leaves me with my wheat standin' an'
goes over to help that Methodist of a Willson is no son of mine.
I ain't never had a son, and you ain't, neither; remember that,
Marthy--don't you ever let me ketch you goin' a-near them. We're
done with Sam an' his missus. You jes' make a note of that." And
old Billy flung out to his fields like a general whose forces had
fled.
It was but a tiny, two-room shack, away up in the back lots, that
Sam was able to get for Della, but no wayfarer ever passed up the
side road but they heard her clear, young voice singing like a
thrush; no one ever met Sam but he ceased whistling only to greet
them. He proved invaluable to Mr. Willson, for after the harvest
was in and the threshing over, there was the root crop and the
apple crop, and eventually Mr. Willson hired him for the entire
year. Della, to the surprise of the neighborhood, kept on with her
school until Christmas.
"She's teachin' instid of keepin' Sam's house, jes' to git money
fer finery, you bet!" sneered old Billy. But he never knew that
every copper for the extra term was put carefully away, and was
paid out for a whole year's rent in advance on a gray little
two-room house, and paid by a very proud little yellow-haired bride.
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