Talk about hoss sense--wa'al, the' ain't no such thing." Thus spoke David on the subject of his favorite pursuit and pastime, and John thought then that he could understand and condone some things he had seen and heard, at which at first he was inclined to look askance.
But this matter of the Widow Cullom's was a different thing, and as he realized that he was expected to play a part, though a small one, in it, his heart sank within him that he had so far cast his fortunes upon the good will of a man who could plan and carry out so heartless and cruel an undertaking as that which had been revealed to him that afternoon.

He spent the evening in his room trying to read, but the widow's affairs persistently thrust themselves upon his thoughts.

All the unpleasant stories he had heard of David came to his mind, and he remembered with misgiving some things which at the time had seemed regular and right enough, but which took on a different color in the light in which he found himself recalling them.

He debated with himself whether he should not decline to send Mrs.Cullom the notice as he had been instructed, and left it an open question when he went to bed.
He wakened somewhat earlier than usual to find that the thermometer had gone up, and the barometer down.

The air was full of a steady downpour, half snow, half rain, about the most disheartening combination which the worst climate in the world--that of central New York--can furnish.