"Why, I don't know," said Grandma; "he don't hang around there very much,
may be, but they say he takes her to ride, and I'm sure he don't wait on
nobody else. But I should think, if he was a going to speak out he'd
ought to do it, and not waste his time a keepin' a puttin' it off. Why,
my fust husband wasn't but a week makin' up his mind, and pa," she
continued, referring openly to Grandpa Keeler, "he wan't quite so
outspoken, to be sure; but he came around to it in the course of a month
or two, and kind o' beat around the bush then, and wanted to know what I
thought on't, and--wall, I told him 'yes,'--I didn't see no use in bein'
squeamish so long as I'd once made up my mind to it."
"I asked ye as soon as I could!" exclaimed Grandpa, bristling on the
defensive. "I wanted to be sure o' gittin' a house fust."
"There!" said Madeline briskly, putting down her foot, and tossing her
head as she addressed the old couple. "Be good, children! Be good!--and
now, do you mark my words, it isn't Becky Weir that Dave Rollin is
hanging around here for. There's some folks to be made up to, and there's
some folks, jest as good, to be stepped on. And Dave Rollin--what does he
think of Wallencamp folks, anyway? He wouldn't take the trouble to kick
'em out of his road; he'd jest step on 'em, and he's steppin' on Beck
Weir.
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