swamp. He was tall, black, and gaunt, part bald with tufted hair, and a cowed and furtive look was in his eyes. One leg was crippled, and he hobbled painfully.
Up the road to the eastward that ran past the school, with the morning sun at his back, strode a young man, yellow, crisp-haired, strong-faced, with darkly knit brows. He greeted Bles and the teacher coldly, and moved on in nervous haste. A woman, hurrying out of the westward swamp up the path that led from Elspeth’s, saw him and shrank back hastily. She turned quickly into the swamp and waited, looking toward the school. The old woman hurried into the back gate just as the old man appeared to the southward on the road. The young man greeted him cordially and they stopped a moment to talk, while the hiding woman watched.
“Howdy, Uncle Jim.”
“Howdy, son. Hit’s hot, ain’t it? How is you?”
“Tolerable, how are you?”
‚ÄúPoorly, son, poorly‚ÅÝ‚Äîand worser in mind. I‚Äôse goin‚Äô up to talk to old Miss.‚Äù
“So am I, but I just see Aunt Rachel going in. We’d better wait.”
Miss Smith started up at the timid knocking, and rubbed her eyes. It was long since she had slept in the daytime and she was annoyed at such laziness. She opened the back door and led the old woman to the office.
“Now, what have you got there?” she demanded, eyeing the basket.
“Just a little chicken fo’ you and a few aigs.”
“Oh, you are so thoughtful!” Sarah Smith’s was a grateful heart.