“Yep.”
There was another long silence. Finally Sam removed his straw again and
said,
“Will yeh hev me?”
“Wh—a—t!” gasped Anne.
“Will yeh hev me?”
“Do you mean—MARRY you?” queried poor Anne feebly.
“Yep.”
“Why, I’m hardly acquainted with you,” cried Anne indignantly.
“But yeh’d git acquainted with me after we was married,” said Sam.
Anne gathered up her poor dignity.
“Certainly I won’t marry you,” she said haughtily.
“Wall, yeh might do worse,” expostulated Sam. “I’m a good worker and I’ve
got some money in the bank.”
“Don’t speak of this to me again. Whatever put such an idea into your head?”
said Anne, her sense of humor getting the better of her wrath. It was such an
absurd situation.
“Yeh’re a likely-looking girl and hev a right-smart way o’ stepping,” said
Sam. “I don’t want no lazy woman. Think it over. I won’t change my mind yit
awhile. Wall, I must be gitting. Gotter milk the cows.”
Anne’s illusions concerning proposals had suffered so much of late years that
there were few of them left. So she could laugh wholeheartedly over this one,
not feeling any secret sting. She mimicked poor Sam to Janet that night, and both
of them laughed immoderately over his plunge into sentiment.
One afternoon, when Anne’s sojourn in Valley Road was drawing to a close,
Alec Ward came driving down to “Wayside” in hot haste for Janet.
“They want you at the Douglas place quick,” he said. “I really believe old
Mrs. Douglas is going to die at last, after pretending to do it for twenty years.”
Janet ran to get her hat. Anne asked if Mrs. Douglas was worse than usual.
“She’s not half as bad,” said Alec solemnly, “and that’s what makes me think
it’s serious. Other times she’d be screaming and throwing herself all over the
place. This time she’s lying still and mum. When Mrs. Douglas is mum she is
pretty sick, you bet.”
“You don’t like old Mrs. Douglas?” said Anne curiously.