"IT wasn't nothing but one of them back-breakin' headaches like a woman will git ever so often," Uncle Boley said. "I went up there this morning to see how she was, and she met me at the door herself, her eyes as big as tea-cups, but smilin', son, smilin'."
"She'd smile, sir, I'd bet you a purty, if the last drop of blood was bein' drawn from her veins, like that old-time Roman lady, sir, and she'd 'low it didn't hurt a bit."
"I never heard tell of the lady you speak of, son, but Sallie McCoy can stand pain and sufferin' as good as any Indian that ever lived. She's been through it; she bends before the wind like a wilier, but when the sun comes out you see her standin' straight, maybe with some signs of tears like the rain on the willer-leaves, but standin' straight up with her eyes on the sky."
"This was different to any trouble she'd ever met before, and it must have cut her deeper, Uncle Boley, deeper than death and bereavement."
"Yes, she always had the highest respect of every-
