their
banter put death into the background as an obscure and infrequent
incident of old age.

Sarah again studied the road down the Coolly.

"Well there! I see a team coming up the Coolly now; wonder if it's
Emmy."

"Looks more like Bill Gray's team," said one of the girls, looking slyly
at Sarah, who grew very red.

"Oh, you're too sharp, ain't you?"

It was perfectly ridiculous (to the young people) to see these
middle-aged lovers courting like sixteen-year-olds, and they had no
mercy on either Bill or Sarah.

Bill drove up in leisurely way, his horses steaming, his wagon-wheels
loaded with mud. Mrs. Gray was with him, her jolly face shining like the
morning sun.

"Hello, folkses, are you all here?"

"Good morning, Mrs. Gray," said the Deacon, approaching to help her out.
"Hello, Bill, nice morning."

Bill looked at Sarah for a moment. "Bully good," he said, leaving his
mother to scramble down the wagon-wheel alone--at least so far as he was
concerned, but the Deacon stood below courageously.

Mrs. Gray cried out in her loud good humor: "Look out, Deacon, don't git
too near me--if I should fall on you there wouldn't be a grease spot
left. _There!_ I'm all right now," she said, having reached ground
without accident. She shook her dress and looked briskly around. "Wal,
what you done, anyway? Emmy's folks come yet?"

"No, but I guess that's them comin' now. I hope Ike won't come, though."

Mrs. Gray stared at the Deacon. "Why not?"

"Well, he's just sure to make a fuss," said Jack, "he's so afraid he
won't get his share."

Bill chewed on a straw and looked at Sarah abstractedly.

"Well, what's t' be done?" inquired Mrs. Gray, after a pause.

"Can't do much till Emmy gets here," said Sarah.

"Oh, I guess we can. Bill, you put out y'r team, we won't get away 'fore
dinner."

The men drove off to the barn, leaving the women to pick their way on
chips and strips of board laid in the mud, to the safety of the
chip-pile, and thence to the kitchen, which was desolately littered with
utensils.

Deacon assumed command with the same alertness, and with the same sunny
gleam in his eye, with which he directed the funeral a few days before.

"Now, Bill, put out your team and help Jack and me pen them hogs. Women
folks 'll git things ready here."

Emma came at last, driven by Harkey's brother and his hired man. They
were both brawny fellows, rude and irritable, and the Deacon lifted his
eyebrows and whist