And then I see the secret of his interest in, and his kindness to me and mine.
And Mr.Freeman wuz raised up in my mind as many as 2 notches, and I don't know but 3 or 4.

To think that he loved his mother's memory so well as to be so kind for her sake, for the sake of a fleetin' likeness, to be so good to another female.
But Josiah Allen looked meachin'.

I gin him a dretful meanin' look.

I didn't say nothin', only jest that look, but it spoke volumes and volumes, and my pardner silently devoured the volumes, and, as I say, looked meachin' for pretty near a quarter of a hour.
And that is a long time for a man to look smut, and conscience-struck.
It hain't in 'em to be mortified for any length of time, as is well known by female pardners.
But we kep on a-goin'.

And every single time I went into that beautiful room, whether it wuz broad daylight or lit up by gas, every single time the face of that tall slender girl, a-standin' there so calm by the crystal brook, would look so natural to me, and so sort o' familiar, that I almost ketched myself sayin'-- "Good-evenin', my dear," to it, which would have been perfectly ridiculous in me, and the very next thing to worshippin' a graven image.
And what made it more mysterious to me, and more like a circus (a solemn, high-toned circus), wuz, to ketch ever and anon, and I guess oftener than that, Mr.Freeman's eyes bent on that pretty young face with a look as if he too recognized her, and wanted to talk to her.