The sweetest little thing she was, with rosy cheeks, and fat--
We was little chunks o' shavers then about as high as that!
But someway we sort o' _suited_-like! and Mother she'd declare
She never laid her eyes on a more lovin' pair
[Illustration]
Than _we_ was! So we growed up side by side fer thirteen year',
And every hour of it she growed to me more dear!--
W'y, even Father's dyin', as he did, I do believe
Warn't more affectin' to me than it was to see her grieve!
I was then a lad o' twenty; and I felt a flash o' pride
In thinkin' all depended on _me_ now to pervide
Fer Mother and fer Mary; and I went about the place
With sleeves rolled up--and working with a mighty smilin' face.--
Fer _sompin' else_ was workin'! but not a word I said
Of a certain sort o' notion that was runnin' through my head,--
"Someday I'd mayby marry, and _a brother's_ love was one
Thing--_a lover's_ was another!" was the way the notion run!
I remember one't in harvest, when the "cradle-in'" was done--
When the harvest of my summers mounted up to twenty-one
I was ridin' home with Mary at the closin' o' the day--
A-chawin' straws and thinkin', in a lover's lazy way!
And Mary's cheeks was burin' like the sunset down the lane:
I noticed she was thinkin', too, and ast her to explain.
Pages:
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49