At the sound of his step, she entered with an armful of pine boughs, which she tossed to the flames.
"I reckon the cracklin' will make you feel mo' comfortable," she observed.

"Thar ain't anything like a lightwood fire to drive away the misery." "It does sound friendly," he responded.
For a moment she hesitated, groping apparently for some topic of conversation which would divert his mind from one subject that engrossed him.
"Archie's just come in," she remarked at last, "an' he walked up with old Uncle Toby, who said he'd seen a ha'nt in the dusk over at Poplar Spring.

I don't see how Mrs.Gay an' Miss Kesiah can endure to live thar." "Oh, they're just darkies' tales--nobody believes in them any more than in conjuring and witches." "That's true, I reckon, but I shouldn't like to live over thar all the same.

They say old Mr.Jonathan comes out of his grave and walks whenever one of 'em is to be buried or married." "Nobody's dead that I've heard of, and I don't suppose either Mr.
Jonathan or Miss Kesiah are thinking of getting married." "Well, I s'pose so--but I'm might glad he ain't taken the notion to walk around here.

I don't believe in ha'nts, but I ain't got no use for 'em." She went out, closing the door after her; and dropping into a chair by the fire, he buried his face in his hands, while he vowed in his heart that he would stop thinking of Molly..