Uncle Dick sighed audibly at the announcement, but his chagrin was given no further expression as he invited the victorious rival to dismount and partake of his hospitality. Alvira received the news with bubbling delight, which showed gaily in her sparkling black eyes and dimpling cheeks. Even Plutina was heartened by the discovery that her grandfather's folly, as she deemed it, must end, though there could be no gladness in her by reason of the fear.
It was after the supper was done, when the visitor's horse stood at the door, that Uncle Dick took a sudden resolve.
"Alviry," he ordered, "you-all come hold this-hyar hoss, a leetle minute, whilst me an' 'im has a confab."
He led the puzzled veteran to a bench beneath a locust, out of earshot of his granddaughters, who regarded the proceeding curiously, and not without apprehension since they knew the violent temper of the old man when thwarted. They were relieved to perceive that his demeanor remained altogether peaceable.
"Hit's jest this-away, Seth Jones," Uncle Dick began at once, after the two were seated side by side on the bench. "Ye see, I knew you-all, an' yer name an' yer business, soon's I sot eyes on ye. Hit were thet-thar danglin' sleeve o' your'n as ye rid up the path what done hit. I knowed then as how my fate was sealed, s' fur's the Widder Brown's consarned. Fanny done told me about you-all an' yer disapp'intment. She allers said, arter her man died, as how ye'd be a-comin' 'long, though I was hopin' ye wouldn't--cuss ye! Excuse me--no offense intended. The widder an' me has been clost friends, an' I told her from the first as how I respected the claims of this-hyar Jones galoot, if so be he turned up afore we got hitched. An' now hyar ye be--dang hit!"
The veteran cleared his throat apologetically. His own happiness made him exaggerate the injury thus wrought by his reappearance. He ventured no remark, however. He could not say that the woman in the case was hardly worth troubling over, and, for the life of him, he could think of nothing else in the way of consolation. He discreetly cleared his throat a second time, and maintained a masterly silence. But the garrulous old man at his side needed no encouragement. He quickly resumed his discourse, with a certain unctuous enjoyment, distinctly inconsistent with his love-lorn pose.
"Seth Jones," he announced solemnly, "if you-all an' me was young ag'in, an' fired by the passion o' youth, thar wouldn't be no love-feast hyar jest now like this un. No, sirree! Hit'd shore be war a-twixt we-uns--with hell a-poppin' at the end on't fer one, mebby both. But my blood don't git het up now the way hit use' to did. I'm thinkin' fer the widder's sake hit's good ye're younger ner me, an' got more years to give 'er. So, Mr. Jones, when all's said an' done, I'm glad ye come to Guarding Creek."