"Where's Mr. Fortner?" asked Harry.
"Jim got up, arly, an' arter eatin' a snac said he'd go out an'
take a look around--mebbe he mout go ez fur ez the Ford."
As if to accompany Harry's instinctie tremor over the possibilities
attending the resumption of Fortner's prowling around the flanks
of Zollicoffer's army, the fire shot off a whole volley of sharp
little explosions.
Harry sprang two or three inches above his chair, then reddened
violently, and essayed to conceal his confusion by assiduous
attention with the poker to the wants of the fire.
Aunt Debby regarded him with gentle compassion.
"Yer all shuck up by the happenin's yesterday," she said with such
tactful sympathy that his sensitive mettle was not offended. "'Tis
nateral ye should be. Hit's allers so. Folks kin say what they
please, but fouten's terrible tryin' to the narves, no matter who
does hit. My husband wuz in the Mexican War, an' he's offen tole
me thet fur weeks arter the battle o' Buner Visty he couldn't heah
a twig snap withouten his heart poppin' right up inter his mouth,
an' hit wuz so with everybody else, much ez they tried ter play
off unconsarned like."
"Ah, really?" said Henry, deeply interested in all the concerned
this woman, whose remarkable qualities were impressing themselves
upon his recognition.
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