He shook his great head and his smile
deepened to a twinkle of real amusement.
"That's so," he said. "But he didn't just give that poor life of his.
I allow he was ready to because--because, wal, I guess he's built in a
right fashion. We owed him for that sure. But I 'low he's been paid
in a way it don't fall to every feller's lot to git paid. You paid
that score for us both, an' if ther's any debt left over to be paid,
why I guess I'm ready to pay it." He chuckled. "You know, Nan,
woman's a ticklish proposition. Ther's wise highbrows guess they
handed out all ther' is to say 'bout women-folk, an' I figger some has
used elegant langwidge, an' made pretty talk. But they ain't said it
all, an' ain't never likely to ef they was to yarn the whole way from
here to hell an' back. I'm gettin' older most every day, an' maybe I
oughter git wiser. But ef I was to live till the great round-up I
don't guess I'd ever learn the limits of a woman's self-sacrifice fer
them she takes the notion to mother. An' it don't matter if it's her
own folk, or her beau, or her man, or some pestilential kid she's
rescued from drownin' in a churn of cream she's jest fixed ready fer
butter makin'.
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