"I ain't got a
dictionary handy. Nerves bad, eh? Well, I don't wonder about that. The
old man's had enough trouble lately to make anybody nervous. I wouldn't
like to go through it myself. No, sir! What with that Dan Barry--I ain't
steppin' on any corns, Kate, am I?"
She smiled vaguely, but the marshal accepted the smile as a strong
dissent.
"They was a time not so long ago when folks said that you was kind of
sweet on Dan. Glad to hear they ain't nothin' in it. 'S a matter of
fact----"
But here Kate interrupted with a raised hand. She said: "I think that
was the supper gong. Yes, there it is. We'll go in now, if you wish."
"They's only one sound in the world that's better to me than a dinner
gong," said the profuse marshal, as they seated themselves around the
big dining table, "and that was the sound of my wife's voice when she
said 'I will.' Queer thing, too. Maria ain't got a very soft voice, most
generally speakin', but when she busted up in front of that preacher and
says 'I will,' why, God A'mighty--askin' your pardon, Kate--they was a
change come in her voice that was like a bell chimin' down in her
throat--a bell ringin' away off far, you know, so's you only kind of
guess at it! But comin' back to you and Dan, Kate----"
It was in vain she plied the marshal with edibles. His tongue wagged
upon roller-bearings and knew no stopping. Moreover, the marshal had
spent some portion of his life in a boarding house and had mastered the
boarding-house art of talking while he ate.
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