stand a coal fire? It stinks worse'n a blunt tail moccasin to me."
Andrew's eyes twinkled but his voice was grave. "You better smoke you pipe whilst you's here, Si May-e. Le me fill em fo you." And she handed him her pipe, making a wry face.
"I ruther smell a pole-cat, Cun Andrew."
"Me too, but don' blame me, gal. Big Boy is de one fetched coal to de shop. E will try new tings and newfangled ways. Big Boy knows more'n me or anybody to hear him talk."
"Shucks," Mary answered, as she took a tiny ember off the forge and lighted her pipe. "Big Boy'll find out some o dese days dat all de sense his skull ever will hold ain' much as you got in one lil toe-nail."
The iron in the forge slowly turned red, then white with heat as Andrew blew the bellows.
"I dunno. Big Boy is gwine to be a fine man too, Si May-e. I see plenty o signs o dat, but e's been mighty down-hearted lately. E's so raven about Seraphine, e can' rest. I keep tellin' em to wait an' see what kind o 'oman Seraphine'll be. A contrary 'oman is a hard thing to stand."
"Dat's de Gawd's truth, Cousin, but what you know 'bout a contrary 'oman?"
"When Doll gets e head set e gits mighty contrary," Andrew complained.
