‘You ought to be a-sayen such to some girl, Nannie maybe. You ought to be a-sayen the likes of that to Nan or Cordie, not me,’ Ellen said.

He would spade a little and talk again. ‘And when I dig the hole for the Sweet Delicious I says to myself, “She’s like a apple ripe on the tree.”’

‘You ought to be a-sayen it to some girl. That’s what you want.’

‘And if I could kiss you once, Ellen Kent. I says today when I planted out the Elbertas, pink on one side and free of the stone, luscious and sweet, I says, “Could I kiss her once?” And that night under the mockernut I wanted.’

‘Haven’t you got a girl somewheres to say it to, some girl eighteen or twenty maybe?’

‘You’re a bright shiny woman, Ellen Kent, and it’s all I can do to keep my eyes offen you. The apple tree, it blooms with a little pink in the white and the peach is all pink. The dogwood is like a star in the forest and the redbud is a sunset against a hillside. Then there’s honey and that’s the fruit of the bee, the flower of the bee-gum, you might say, and there’s kinds of that, bee honey and ant honey, did you ever hear it said?’ He fitted the little tree to the place but took it away and spaded again. ‘They take the sweet outen the grass even, and even outen the mud. Some of it dark, the wild honey, and some strong and bitter, but all of it sweet, and it’s the fruit of the bee.’ He fitted the tree into place for the last time and began to set the earth about it. ‘Did you ever walk in spring in the woods and find these-here little white flowers, rare they are, under a layer of old leaves, little white flowers just out of the ground? Hepaticas they are. Did you ever? God bless you! And in the hill country, arbutus and laurel. Windflowers are little white sheep on a mountain pasture, and all the time you’re as shiny as a dogwood tree in spring, Ellen Kent.’

‘You ought to be a-sayen it to Nan, or to Cordie,’ Ellen said. ‘Nan, she’s a little woman, grown she is, but young, all a grown woman’s ways sometimes. And Cordie is pretty, I see that. Sharp teeth in a smooth row and a little dimple on her face. Nan with her hair up in a knot, particular about her dress and whe’r there’s lace or not.’

‘If I could kiss you one time I’d chance the rest in life, Ellen Kent.’

‘You never noticed yet how Nan has got a pretty dimple aside her eye or how quick Cordie is to get angry, a frown on her face and her mouth to say sharp things, sharp talk, bite in it. “You needn’t be so smart, Luke Wimble,” she’d say, “so struck on your own self and so sure you’re wanted.” Hear her say it? “So sure you’re wanted.” In another year a dozen will be after Cordie. You’ll see. Or some other girl, the same as Cordie but away from here, where you live maybe. Her mouth gives up its mad and smiles again, and you there close. Your own girl and ne’er a thing to hinder.’