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"Do you love Becky Morton?" he asked bluntly, when all had been
told.
"I don't know," Jacob stammered; "I think not; because when I seem
to like her most, I feel afraid of her."
"It's lucky that you're not sure of it!" exclaimed the old man with
energy; "because you should never have her."
"No," said Jacob, with a mournful acquiescence, "I can never have
her, or any other one."
"But you shall--and will I when I help you. It's true I've not
seemed to care much about you, and I suppose you're free to think
as you like; but this I say: I'll not stand by and see you spit
upon! `Covered with as much as it'll bear!' THAT'S a piece o'
luck anyhow. If we're poor, your wife must take your poverty with
you, or she don't come into MY doors. But first of all you must
make your journey!"
"My journey!" repeated Jacob.
"Weren't you thinking of it this night, before you took your seat
on that stump? A little more, and you'd have gone clean off, I
reckon."
Jacob was silent, and hung his head.
"Never mind! I've no right to think hard of it.


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