"Just gone," said Tant Sannie; "and I am going to marry him this day four
weeks. I am dead sleepy," she added; "the stupid thing doesn't know how to
talk love-talk at all," and she climbed into the four-poster, clothes and
all, and drew the quilt up to her chin.

...

On the day preceding Tant Sannie's wedding, Gregory Rose sat in the blazing
sun on the stone wall behind his daub-and-wattle house. It was warm, but
he was intently watching a small buggy that was being recklessly driven
over the bushes in the direction of the farmhouse. Gregory never stirred
till it had vanished; then, finding the stones hot, he slipped down and
walked into the house. He kicked the little pail that lay in the doorway,
and sent it into one corner; that did him good. Then he sat down on the
box, and began cutting letters out of a piece of newspaper. Finding that
the snippings littered the floor, he picked them up and began scribbling on
his blotting-paper. He tried the effect of different initials before the
name Rose: G. Rose, E. Rose, L. Rose, Rose, L.L., L.L. Rose. When he had
covered the sheet, he looked at it discontentedly a little while, then
suddenly began to write a letter:

"Beloved Sister,

"It is a long while since I last wrote to you, but I have had no time.
This is the first morning I have been at home since I don't know when. Em
always expects me to go down to the farmhouse in the morning; but I didn't
feel as though I could stand the ride today.

"I have much news for you.