in asking him to
introduce himself caused a feeling akin to shame to cover his heart.
Recovering his composure, he said:

"I am Jack Wade. I beg your pardon for not having told you before."

"Ye needn't," she replied, extending her hand. A continuous smile played
about her face.

"And your name?" he asked hesitatingly.

"Huh!" she grunted. "Thought everybody knowed me. I'm Nory Judson, only
gal of Peter Judson, owner of this large terbac--to-bac-ker farm. I'm
pleased ter know ye, Jack."

Wade smiled as she requested him to take a seat upon the rickety little
porch and make himself at home. She sat beside him and dangled her feet
in and out under the porch.

"You haven't got it quite right yet," he said, looking into her face.

"Got whut right?" she asked, a far-away expression covering her
countenance.

"Tobacco. T-o-b-a-c-c-o."

"To-bac-co, tobacco," she slowly spelled after him studiously. "I
thought hit was terbacker," she continued in apparent animation, "an'
nobody hain't never said hit ain't 'round here." She did not mean to
rebuke him for the correction. He thought so only because he understood
her so very little. However, the subject was most too grave for him just
at this juncture in their lives, therefore he quietly evaded further
comment, feeling assured that it was not his duty to show this simple,
sweet child of the mountainside how incorrectly she spoke, although he
would gladly have done so could it have been done without in the least
affecting her feelings. The time was not opportune. She was sensitive,
perhaps, in a large degree, and he cared not to trample upon her
sensibility. Far better that he place himself on a plane equal to her
own as regards the use of the English language; otherwise she was more
than his equal. Besides, he was in sore need of friends to assist him in
fulfilling his purpose.

"No one may ever say that you are not quite right," he said jovially.
"If they do, you may call on me and I'll see to it that justice is
done."

He smiled and she could not refrain from smiling.

"I forgive ye," she said, "because ye are a lonely bachelor, an' I don't
want ye ter feel bad. Ye look so lonesome."

"Thank you. It is very lonely down at my cabin just now, though I surely
will become accustomed to this quiet life soon. Then all loneliness will
disappear, I presume. Just think of a fellow being away out here by his
lonesome self all day and all night, without a human soul to ven