The old man had been talking very fast and was out of breath. He paused to gather the threads of his story.
The School Teacher seized the opportunity to remark: “An’ yet Solerman in all his glory was restless an’ unhappy.”
“He knowd too much,” drawled the Loafer, looking up from his stick. “An’ Gran’pap, with all of his wisdom, with all the good uns he sayd, Solerman never knowd what it was to light his ole pipe an’ set plumb down on the wood-pile an’ play with the dog. Why, he’d sp’iled his gown.”
“Boys,” resumed the Patriarch, “slick clothes an’ a slick hoss an’ a slick buggy goes ten times furder with a woman then a slick brain. She can see a man’s clothes; she can see his hoss; she can see his buggy. But it takes her fifty year to git her eyes adjusted so she can see his mind. That’s why I got worrit ’hen this here Perry felly got to drivin’ down to wisit Melissy. He come oncet; he come agin, an’ I begin thinkin’ more o’ him then I did o’ the girl. Sometimes it seemed like I was goin’ mad yit I couldn’t do nawthin’ on Hen’s account. Many an afternoon I set here on this wery porch rewolvin’ it over an’ over: ‘Ef I don’t git her I’ll die; ef I git her Hen’ll die; ef Perry gits her both on us’ll die.’ It was a hard puzzle. A couple o’ times I was near solvin’ it be leavin’ the main part o’ the sufferin’ to the other fellys, but then I minded how Hen looked at me that night ez we parted at the fork o’ the road, an’ I sais, ‘I’ll treat no buddy o’ mine mean. Git behind me, Satan, an’ make yerself comf’table tell I need ye.’
“But one afternoon ’hen I was feelin’ petickler low in sperrits, oneasy, onrastless, I seen Perry drivin’ th’oo, his hoss curried tell his coat was smooth ez silk, his buggy shinin’ like it ’ud blind me, an’ him settin’ inside in a full new suit o’ clothes. I knowd she couldn’t stand all that wery long. So after supper I went right over to Wheedle’s to git Hen, ’lowin’ we’d go down to Flower’s an’ let Melissy settle the business be choosin’. He wasn’t een. His ma sayd he’d jest left, but she s’posed he’d be right hum agin. So I fixed meself on the pump trough an’ waited. My, but them hours did drag! The sun set an’ it got dark. I could look down the hill to Flower’s placet an’ see a light twinklin’ in the best room where I knowd she was with Perry. I pictured her at the melodium twiddlin’ her fingers soft-like over the keys while he leaned over her singin’, ‘Thine eyes so blue an’ tender.’ Boys, it was terrible--terrible. The lamp was allus a-twinklin’ to me to hurry up. Then final it seemed to git tired an’ went out. It was only eight o’clock. Now I pictured ’em settin’ in the dark. I wanted to leave right there an’ run down the hill, but I sais, ‘No; I’ll treat no buddy o’ mine mean.’