TULLI
T was nigh to midnight and it had set in to rain when he woke us. It had been a misdoubtful night, with the storm making; a night when a fellow looks for most anything to happen before he can get the stock fed and himself to the house an supper et and in bed with the rain starting, and when Peabody’s team come up, lathered, with the broke harness dragging and the neck-yoke betwixt the off critter’s legs, Cora says “It’s Addie Bundren. She’s gone at last.”
“Peabody mought have been to ere a one of a dozen houses hereabouts,” I says. “Besides, how do you know it’s Peabody’s team?”
“Well, ain’t it?” she says. “You hitch up, now.”
“What for?” I says. “If she is gone, we can’t do nothing till morning. And it fixing to storm too.”
“It’s my duty,” she says. “You put the team in.”
But
