I'll set awhile with you but I ain't a-needin' no chair." And with that, she seated herself on the floor, her back against the wall of the house.
The last of the evening was gone from the sky, now.

The soft darkness of a clear, star-light night lay over the land.

A gentle breeze stole over the mountains, rustled softly through the forest, and, drifting across the river, touched Auntie Sue's silvery hair.
Judy was first to break the silence: "I took notice neighbor Tom brung you-all a right smart bunch of letter mail this evenin'," she said, curiously.
There was a troubled note in Auntie Sue's gentle voice as she returned, "The letter from the bank did not come, Judy." "Hit didn't ?" "No; and, Judy, it is nearly four weeks, now, since I sent them that money.

I can't understand it." "I was plumb scared at the time, you oughten ter sent hit just in er letter that a-way.

Hit sure looked like a heap of money ter be a-trustin' them there ornery post-office fellers with, even if hit was funny, new-fangled money like that there was.