It's 'way back in Tennessee. Her folks lives
about 'leven miles from me out on the Pine Knot Pike, an' once in
two weeks I saddles up an' sorter sidles over. Thar's jest her old
pap an' her mother an' her in the fam'ly, an' it's that far I allers
made to stay all night. Thar's only two beds, an' so I'm put to camp
along of the old man the times I stays.
"Them days I'm 'way bashful an' behind on all social plays, an' am
plenty awe-struck about the old foiks. I never feels happy a minute
where they be. The old lady does her best to make me easy an' free,
too. Comes out when I rides up, an' lets down the bars for my hoss,
an' asks me to rest my hat the second I'm in the door.
"Which matters goes on good enough ontil mebby it's the eighth time
I'm thar. I remembers the night all perfect. Me an' the girl sets up
awhile, an' then I quits her an' turns in. I gets to sleep a-layin'
along the aige of the bed, aimin' to keep 'way from the old man,
who's snorln' an' thrashin' 'round an' takin' on over in the middle.
"I don't recall much of nothin' ontil I comes to, a-holdin' to the
old man's y'ear with one hand an' a-hammerin' of his features with
t'other. I don't know yet, why.
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