"
"Miz Mayfield," said Margaret, "Kintchin fotch me a letter from the
post-office this mornin' an' as my eyes ain't right good to-day, I wish
you'd come in an' read it to me."
"Yes, gladly."
"Thank you--'specially as my eyes ain't right good this mornin'. Skuze
us, Laz," she said, turning to go into the house.
"Help yo'se'f," Laz replied, again wiping his jews-harp; and when the
two women had gone into the house, he began to play, and the old man,
sitting now upon the wood-pile, looking over his epitaph, nodded time.
Suddenly the musician left off.
"Say, Peters has got his app'intment."
The old man's arms dropped. "Air you shore?"
"I'm a tellin' you. He's got it writ out on a piece of paper that looks
like white luther."
"Wall," said Jasper, getting up. "I don't know of any man that's a goin'
to w'ar out his shoes a runnin'. But I'm sorry. Was in hopes that he
couldn't git it. An' yit, I didn't put the strings back into my shoes."
"I understand. You don't want to die with 'em on. But I wouldn't give
him any of the advantage.
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