She used to take baskits of vittles aroun' to sick folks, an' set down on the side o' their beds an' read "The Shepherd o' Salisbury Plains" to 'em.

She hardly ever speaked above her breath, an' always wore white gowns with a silk kerchief a-folded placidly aroun' her neck.' 'Them was awful different kind o' people,' I says to him, 'I wonder how they ever come to be married.' 'They never was married,' says he.

'Never married!' I hollers, a-jumpin' up from my chair, 'and you sit there carmly an' look me in the eye.' 'Yes,' says he, 'they was never married.

They never met; one was my mother's father, and the other one my father's mother.

'Twas well they did not wed.' 'I should think so,' said I, 'an' now, what's the good of tellin' me a thing like that ?' "'It's about as near the mark as most of the stories of people's lives, I reckon,' says he, 'an' besides I'd only jus' begun it.' "'Well, I don't want no more,' says I, an' I jus' tell this story of his to show what kind of stories he told about that time.