coln wur men the country hed no use for. Nor the Almighty neyther.
That's my cool jedgment, now that we are out of the fracas. Look at the
ruin them men wrought around you!"

And his audience would look around them, and shift their legs, and shake
their heads with solemn conviction, though they knew, and he knew that
they knew, that since North Carolina began to exist the decrepit frame
houses yonder had turned the same pauper faces to the square in Sevier,
and that their grandfathers in homespun had lounged just as they did on
this very broken trough, and watched their lean cows chew the cud, and
leisurely abused the Federalists for the ruin of the country. Twice a
year the judge and Lawyer Grayson rode down to court and crossed the old
track of Sherman and his raiders, and coming back would tell of levelled
fences and burned barns. For thirteen years they had gone down, and the
barns and fences yet lay as Sherman left them, as unchanged as the
gneiss rocks about them.

On this day, however, they had a new subject to discuss. The
sheepskin-covered chair which sat by the pump day and night the year
round, ready for the judge, had been empty for two weeks. The old man
had pneumonia, and was on his deathbed. Every morning the doctor brought
a full account of his latest symptoms, and the crowd drearily discussed
them during the rest of the day over interminable melancholy games of
backgammon.

On this morning Grayson the lawyer had been sent for.

"The old gentleman's going to make his will," said the doctor, taking a
seat.

The words were like a chilly wind from the grave. The gossips of Sevier
were, after all, a simple affectionate folk. They had grown together
like the mossy logs of their houses: when one was torn away, it left a
gap and a dull, abiding sense of loss for years. There was a long
silence.

"De jedge am bin a class-leader fohty year," said at last old Primus the
barber in the background, shaking his woolly poll.

Nobody answered. The squire noiselessly laid down the dice and shut the
backgammon-board. Major Fetridge rose with a groan: "I'll go over and
get a glass of somethin'. Won't some gentleman join me?"

Nobody joined him. The major's red head and lean little legs moved
unsteadily over the square.

"Sam Fetridge hes hed enough a'ready," said the squire. "He'll follow
the jedge, and that hot foot, ef he don't pull up. D'ye think Dave
Cabarreux will come in for all the Scroope proputty, doc?"