They don't like Old Toombs, but they ain't any of one of 'em can ekal his barns!" He followed me down to the roadside now quite loquacious.

Even after I had thanked him and started to go he called after me.
When I stopped he came forward hesitatingly--and I had the impressions, suddenly, and for the first time that he was an old man.

It may have been the result of his sudden fierce explosion of anger, but his hand shook, his face was pale, and he seemed somehow broken.
"You--you like my hedge ?" he asked.
"It is certainly wonderful hedge," I said.

"I never have seen anything like it ?" "The' AIN'T nothing like it," he responded, quickly.

"The' ain't nothing like it anywhere." In the twilight as I passed onward I saw the lonely figure of the old man moving with his hickory stick up the pathway to his lonely house.
The poor rich old man! "He thinks he can live wholly to himself," I said aloud.
I thought, as I tramped homeward, of our friendly and kindly community, of how we often come together of an evening with skylarking and laughter, of how we weep with one another, of how we join in making better roads and better schools, and building up the Scotch Preacher's friendly little church.