I pitied ye, when he was taken away. I re'lly did, now, Fanny.
I liked Tobin first-rate, and I liked you. I used to say you was the
han'somest girl to school."
"Lemme see your nose. 'Tis all straight, for what I know," said the
widow gently, as with a trace of coyness she gave a hasty glance. "I
don't know but what 'tis warped a little, but nothin' to speak of.
You've got real nice features, like your marm's folks."
It was becoming a sentimental occasion, and Jefferson Briley felt that
he was in for something more than he had bargained. He hurried the
faltering sorrel horse, and began to talk of the weather. It certainly
did look like snow, and he was tired of bumping over the frozen road.
"I shouldn't wonder if I hired a hand here another year, and went off
out West myself to see the country."
"Why, how you talk!" answered the widow.
"Yes'm," pursued Jefferson. "'Tis tamer here than I like, and I was
tellin' 'em yesterday I've got to know this road most too well. I'd
like to go out an' ride in the mountains with some o' them great
clipper coaches, where the driver don't know one minute but he'll be
shot dead the next. They carry an awful sight o' gold down from the
mines, I expect."
"I should be scairt to death," said Mrs. Tobin. "What creatur's men
folks be to like such things! Well, I do declare."
"Yes," explained the mild little man. "There's sights of desp'radoes
makes a han'some livin' out o' followin' them coaches, an' stoppin'
an' robbin' 'em clean to the bone.
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