Mayfield stood near, watching him, but her mind reverted to Peters.
"But he says--"
"Never mind what he says," the old fellow broke in, grinding his axe.
"We all ought to be kind to him." He examined the edge of the axe. "For
I don't think he's goin' to live very long."
"Why, he looks healthy enough."
"Yes, but he's mighty deceivin'. Most of his men folks died when they
was about his age. Suthin' the matter with the fam'ly that causes 'em to
drop off along about then."
"Singular, isn't it?"
"Mighty curious."
"Couldn't the doctors do anything for them. Not that I care, you
understand, but it's interesting as a--"
"No, somehow the doctors was always called in too late. Ma'm, Jim tells
me he's goin' home."
"Did he tell you just now when you must have met him in the road?"
"No. Jest now when I met him he didn't say nothin', but he looked at me
and his eye was a hummin' of a tune."
"And when he comes back," she said, half musingly, "he may tell you what
tune he was humming."
"Hah!"
"Wait till he comes back.
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