But it ain't the
horse deserves to be sworn at. He ain't the idiot; the idiots are you
and me. We was both of us out of sorts this mornin', I guess--I know I
was--and then you come along and we talked and--and, well, we both went
into this foolish, ridiculous, awful piece of silliness without stoppin'
to figger out whether we really wanted to, or whether we was liable to
get along together, or anything else. Caleb, I've been wantin' to say
this for the last hour or more--now I'm goin' to say it: You turn that
horse's head around and start right home again."
Mr. Hammond shook his head.
"No," he said.
"I say yes. I don't want to marry you and I don't believe you want to
marry me. Now do you--honest?"
Caleb was silent for a full minute. Then he drew a deep breath.
"It don't make no difference whether I do or not, fur's I can see," he
said, gloomily. "It's too late to start home now. I don't know what time
'tis, but we must have been ridin' three or four hours--seems eight or
ten year to me--and we ought to be pretty near to Bayport. If we
should turn back now we wouldn't get home till long after daylight, and
everybody would be up and wantin' to know the whys and wherefores. If we
told 'em we'd been ridin' around together all night, and didn't give any
reasons for it, there'd be talk enough to last till Judgment. No, we've
just got to get married now. That's all there is to it."
Hannah groaned as the truth of this statement dawned upon her.
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