There were hills beyond;
the mountains themselves seemed very near. Scattered about on the hill
slopes were farmhouses, which stood so far apart, with their clusters
of out-buildings, that each looked lonely, and the pine woods above
seemed to besiege them all. It was lighter on the uplands than it was
in the valley, where the three men sat on their bench, with their
backs to the store and the western sky.
"Well, here we be 'most into June, an' I 'ain't got a bush-bean above
ground," lamented Henry Merrill.
"Your land's always late, ain't it? But you always catch up with the
rest on us," Asa Brown consoled him. "I've often observed that your
land, though early planted, was late to sprout. I view it there's a
good week's difference betwixt me an' Stover an' your folks, but come
first o' July we all even up."
"'Tis just so," said John Stover, taking his pipe out of his mouth, as
if he had a good deal more to say, and then replacing it, as if he had
changed his mind.
"Made it extry hard having that long wet spell. Can't none on us take
no day off this season," said Asa Brown; but nobody thought it worth
his while to respond to such evident truth.
"Next Saturday'll be the thirtieth o' May--that's Decoration Day,
ain't it?--come round again. Lord! how the years slip by after you git
to be forty-five an' along there!" said Asa again. "I s'pose some o'
our folks'll go over to Alton to see the procession, same's usual.
I've got to git one o' them small flags to stick on our Joel's grave,
an' Mis' Dexter always counts on havin' some for Harrison's lot.
Pages:
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438