Then Aunt Deel drew her chair near me and touched my hair very gently and looked into my face without speaking.
"Ayes! I know," she said presently, in a kind of caressing tone, with a touch of sadness in it.

"They ain't used to coarse homespun stuff down there in the village.

They made fun o' ye--didn't they, Bart ?" "I don't care about that," I assured them.

"'The mind's the measure of the man,'" I quoted, remembering the lines the Senator had repeated to me.
"That's sound!" Uncle Peabody exclaimed with enthusiasm.
Aunt Deel took my hand in hers and surveyed it thoughtfully for a moment without speaking.
"You ain't goin' to have to suffer that way no more," she said in a low tone.
I rose and went to the parlor door.
"Ye mustn't go in there," she warned me.
Delightful suspicions came out of the warning and their smiles.
"We're goin' to be more comf'table--ayes," said Aunt Deel as I resumed my chair.

"Yer uncle thought we better go west, but I couldn't bear to go off so fur an' leave mother an' father an' sister Susan an' all the folks we loved layin' here in the ground alone--I want to lay down with 'em by an' by an' wait for the sound o' the trumpet--ayes!--mebbe it'll be for thousands o' years--ayes!" "You don't suppose their souls are a-sleepin' there--do ye ?" my uncle asked.
"That's what the Bible says," Aunt Deel answered.
"Wal the Bible-- ?" Uncle Peabody stopped.