"
Jethro looked at her doubtfully, and then, as she smiled at him, he
smiled also.
"I don't believe it's me," he said, confidently. "It's because you're
going over things here. It's the old house."
"Maybe," said Dilly, nodding and tying her last bundle of papers. "But
I don't know. I never had quite such feelin's before. It's the nearest
to bein' afraid of anything I've come acrost. I guess I shall have to
run out into the lot an' take my bearin's."
Jethro got up, put his hands in his pockets, and walked about the room.
He was very gentle, but he did at heart cherish the masculine theory
that the unusual in woman is never to be judged by rules.
"But it is a queer kind of a day," owned Dilly, pushing in the last
drawer. "Why, Jethro!" She faced him, and her voice broke in
excitement. "You don't know, I ain't begun to tell you, how queer it
seems to me. Why, I've dreaded this day for weeks! but when it come
nigh, it begun to seem to me like a joyful thing. I felt as if they all
knew of it: them that was gone. It seemed as if they stood 'round me,
ready to uphold me in what I was doin'. I shouldn't be surprised if
they were all here now. I don't feel a mite alone."
Her voice shook with excitement; her eyes were big and black.
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