Hamlin Garland

“ He took such delight in the glorious morning and the turbulent life of the farmyard that his heart grew light and he hummed a tune which sounded like the merry growl of a lion. "Poo-ee, poo-ee," he called to the pigs as they swarmed across the yard.
"Ahrr! you big, fat rascals, them hams o' yourn is clear money. One o' ye shall go t' buy Merry a new dress," he said as he glanced at the house and saw the smoke pouring out the stove-pipe. "Merry 's a good girl; she 's stood by her old pap when other girls 'u'd 'a' gone back on 'im." ”

“ His hand dropped to his side; his head turned slowly from the bed to the open window; he rushed forward and looked out on the ground, where he saw the tracks of a man.
He fell heavily into the chair by the bed, while a deep groan broke from his stiff and twitching lips.
"She 's left me! She 's left me!"
For a long half-hour the iron-muscled old man sat there motionless, hearing not the songs of the hens or the birds far out in the brilliant sunshine. He had lost sight of his farm, his day's work, and felt no hunger for food. He did not doubt that her going was final. ”

“ Bacon was not much of a talker at any time, and at meal-time, in seeding, eating was the main business in hand; therefore the meal was a silent one, Marietta and Lyme not caring to talk on general topics. The hour was an anxious one for her and an important one for him.
"Wal, now, Lyme, seedin' 's the nex' thing," said Bacon as he shoved back his chair and glared around from under his bushy eyebrows. "We can't do too much this afternoon. That seeder 's got t' be set up an' a lot o' seed wheat cleaned up. You unload the machine while I feed the pigs." ”

“ The girl hesitated, and Lyman spoke again.
"Come, I hain't got much time. This is yer last chance t' see me. It 's now 'r never."
The girl slipped out of bed and, wrapping herself in a shawl, crept to the window.
"Boost on that winder," commanded Lyman. She raised it enough to admit his head, which came just above the sill; then she knelt on the floor by the window.
"Lyme, what in the world do you mean—"
"I mean business," he replied. "I ain't no last year's chicken; I know when the old man sleeps the soundest." He chuckled pleasantly. ”

“ The young man saw that it was useless to remain, as it would only excite the old man; and so, with a look of apology, not without humor, at Marietta, he went to the house to get his valise. The girl wept silently while the father raged up and down. ”

“ You look just like the wife I be'n a-huntin' for all these years, sure 's shootin'."
Marietta colored with pleasure.
"Does dad pay you t' stand an' look at me an' say pretty things t' the cook?"
"No, he don't. But I 'm willin' t' do it without pay. I could jest stand here till kingdom come an' look at you—Hello! I hear a wagon. I guess I better hump into that wood-pile."
"I think so too. Dinner 's most ready, and pap 'll be here soon."
Lyme was driving away furiously at a tough elm log when farmer Bacon drove into the yard with a new seeder in his wagon. ”

“ He had his hat in his hand and was whacking his thigh with it.
"Lyman Gilman, what in the world ails you to-day? It 's perfectly ridiculous the way you yell and talk t' y'rself out there on the chips. You beat the hens, I declare if you don't."
Lyme put on his hat and walked up to the window, and, resting his great bare arms on the sill, and his chin on his arms, said:
"Merry, I 'm goin' t' tackle dad this afternoon. He 'll be settin' up the new seeder, and I 'm goin' t' climb right on the back of his neck. He 's jest gut t' give me a chance."
Marietta looked sober in sympathy. ”

“ The girl made a snatch at it, but the giant's left hand caught her by the wrist, and away went cup and plate as he drew her to him and kissed her in spite of her struggles.
"My! ain't you strong!" she said half-ruefully and half-admiringly as she shrugged her shoulders. "If you 'd use a little more o' that choppin' wood, dad would n't 'a' lost s' much money by yeh." ”

“ She ain't old 'nough t' marry yet—and, besides, I need her."
Having got his chores done as usual, he went to the well and washed his face and hands, then entered the kitchen—to find the tea-kettle boiling over, and no signs of breakfast anywhere and no sign of the girl.
"Well, I guess she felt sleepy this mornin.' Poor gal! Mebbe she cried half the night."
"Merry!" he called gently at her door. "Merry, m' gal! Pap needs his breakfast." ”

“ Jennings in the pause which followed. "You 'd better do it, neighbor Bacon. Nobuddy need know how things stood; they were married in my house—I thought that 'u'd be best. You can't live without your girl," he went on, "any more 'n I could without my boy. You 'd better—"
The figure at the table straightened up. Under his tufted eyebrows his keen gray eyes flashed from one to the other. His hands knotted.
"Go slow!" went on the smooth voice of Jennings, known all the country through as a peacemaker. "Take time t' think it over. Stand out, an' you 'll live here alone without chick 'r child ”

“ He was a rough, illiterate man, yet there was something fine about him after all, a kind of simplicity and a gigantic leonine tenderness.
He heard his sweetheart moving about inside, and thought: "The old man won't hold out when he finds we 're married. He can't get along without her. ”