"
"The remedy for that is very, simple," she replied coolly. "You needn't
touch my hand."
"Stop!" I snapped. "Just stop before you say something you'll be sorry
for. Of course, you hate each other. It beats me, anyhow, why two people
who get married always want to get away by themselves until they're so
sick of each other that they don't get over it the rest of their
lives. The only sensible honeymoon I ever heard of was when one of the
chambermaids here married a farmer in the neighborhood. It was harvest
and he couldn't leave, so she went ALONE to see her folks and she said
it beat having him along all hollow."
She was setting out the supper, putting things down with a bang. He
didn't move, although he must have been starving.
"Another thing I'd advise," I said. "Eat first and talk after. You'll
see things different after you've got something in your stomach."
"I wish you wouldn't meddle, Minnie!" she snapped, and having put down
her own plate and knife and fork, not laying a place for him, she went
over and tried to get one of the potatoes from the fire.
Well, she burnt her finger, or pretended to, and I guess her solution
was as good as mine, for she began to cry, and when I left he was tying
it up with a bit of his handkerchief; if she shivered when he kissed it
I didn't notice it. They were to come up to the house after her father
left in the morning, and I was to dismiss all the old help and get new
ones so he could take charge and let Mr.
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