A picture of toilworn age, of the inevitable end of all mortal labour, he had sat for hours in the faint sunshine, smiling with his sunken, babyish mouth at the brood of white turkeys that crowded about the well.
"Well, she's Reuben Merryweather's granddaughter, suh," replied Solomon in the place of the elder.

"He was overseer at Jordan's Journey, you know, durin' the old gentleman's lifetime, after the last Jordan died and the place was bought by yo' uncle.

Ah, 'twas different, suh, when the Jordans war livin'!" Some furtive malice in his tone caused the stranger to turn sharply upon him.
"The girl's mother--who was she ?" he asked.
"Janet Merryweather, the prettiest gal that ever set foot on these roads.

Ah, 'twas a sad story, was hers, an' the less said about it, the soonest forgotten.

Thar was some folks, the miller among 'em, that dropped dead out with the old minister--that was befo' Mr.Mullen's time--for not wantin' her to be laid in the churchyard.