"Why, you poor man!" said she. "Of course you're starved! It must
be nearly eight o'clock! I almost forget about eating, living here
alone. You shall have supper directly. Will you come in or sit a
spell outside?"
"Reckon I'll come in," said Red. "Don't want to lose sight of you
now that I've found you."
It was some time since Miss Mattie had felt that anyone had cared
enough for her not to want to lose sight of her, and a delicate
warm bloom went over her cheeks. She hurried into the little
kitchen.
"Mattie!" called Red.
"What is it, Will?" she answered, coming to the door.
"Can I smoke in this little house?"
"Cer--tainly! Sit right down and make yourself comfortable. Don't
you remember what a smoker father was?"
Red tried the different chairs with his hand. They were not a
stalwart lot. Finally he spied the home-made rocker in the corner.
"There's the lad for me," he said, drawing it out. "Got to be
kinder careful how you throw two-hundred-fifty pounds around."
"Mercy!" cried Miss Mattie, pan in hand. "Do you weigh as much as
that, Will?"
"I do," returned Red, with much satisfaction. "And there isn't
over two pounds of it fat at that."
"What a great man you have grown up to be, Will!"
Red took in a deep draught of tobacco and sent the vapor clear
across the little room.
"On the hay-scales, yes," he answered, with a sort of joking
earnestness--"but otherwise, I don't know.
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