along he was forced to pause every now and again and set down the
carpet-bag, sometimes to rub his back, sometimes to seat himself on a
stump and nurse for a few moments one of those demon-possessed feet.
Could he have made any progress at all if he had not known that at
home, no matter if there was company, there would at least be no Abe
Rose to keep him going, to spur him on to unwelcome action, to force him
to prove himself out of sheer self-respect the equal, if not the
superior, in masculine strength?

Abe had led him that chase over at the Station, Samuel was convinced,
"a-purpose" to punish him for having so soundly berated him when he lay
a-bed. That was all the thanks you ever got for doing things for "some
folks."

Samuel hobbled onward, his brow knit with angry resentment. Did ever a
half-mile seem so long, and had he actually been only twenty-three hours
from home and Blossy? Oh, oh! his back and his feet! Oh, the weight of
that bag! How much he needed sleep! How good it would be to have Blossy
tuck him under the covers, and give him a hot lemonade with a stick of
ginger in it!

If only he had hold of Abe Rose now to tell him his opinion of him!
Well, he reflected, you have to summer and winter with a person before
you can know them. This one December day and night with Abe had been
equal to the revelations of a dozen seasons. The next time Samuel tried
to do good to anybody more than sixty-five, he'd know it. The next time
he was persuaded into leaving his wife for over night, he'd know that,
too. Various manuals for the young husband, which he had consulted, to
the contrary notwithstanding, the place for a married man was at home.