"Great!" he declared. "Fine! Wonderful!
You wait till 'Bije comes to tell you how fine 'twas. He's in bed,
laid up with neuralgia, and Emma J., his wife, says that every hour
or less yesterday there was somebody bangin' at their door asking
about you. Every time they banged she says that 'Bije, his nerves
bein' on edge the way they are, would pretty nigh jump the quilts
up to the ceilin' and himself along with 'em. And his remarks got
more lit up every jump. About five o'clock when somebody came
poundin' he let out a roar you could hear a mile. 'Tell 'em
Shavin's Winslow's gone to the devil,' he bellowed, 'and that I say
they can go there too.' And then Emma J. opened the door and
'twan't anybody askin' about you at all; 'twas the Baptist minister
come callin'. I was drivin' past there just now and Emma J. came
out to tell me about it. She wanted to know if you'd gone clear
crazy instead of part way. I told her I didn't know, but I'd make
it my business to find out. Tut, tut, tut! You are a wonder,
Jed."
Jed did not dispute the truth of this statement. He looked
troubled, however. "Sho!" he said; "I'm sorry if I plagued 'Bijah
that way. If I'd known he was sick I wouldn't have done it. I
never once thought so many folks as one every hour would want to
see me this time of year. Dear me! I'm sorry about 'Bije.
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