It was
late in October when Scattergood "came to scratch," as the local saying
is.
"Mandy," said he, "I calc'late you noticed I been comin' around here
consid'able."
"You have--seems as though," she said, and blushed. It was coming. She
recognized the signs.
"I been a-comin' on purpose," said Scattergood.
"Do tell," said Mandy.
"Yes, ma'am. It's like this: I own a hardware store and some other
prop'ty; not a heap, ma'am, but _some_. It's gittin' to be more. I
calculate, some day, to be wuth consid'able. When a man gits to this
p'int, he ought to have him a wife, eh?"
Mandy made no reply.
"So," said Scattergood, "I took to lookin' around a bit, and of all the
girls there was, Mandy, it looked to me like you would be the only one
to make the kind of a wife I want. That's honest. Yes, sir. Says I to
myself, 'Mandy Randle's the one for me.' So I washed up the buggy and
hitched up the horse and come right out. I been comin' ever since,
because that there first impression of mine has been bore out by
facts.... I'm askin' you, Mandy, will you be Missis Baines?"
"You're stiddy and savin'--and makin'," said Mandy. "Add what _you_ got
to what I got, and we'll be pretty well off.
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