She continue<d>s to watch him with that face serene, a little suspicious. Then she breathe<d>s. It <was> is not a sigh: she just
breathe<d>s deeply and quietly once. "Well, she <said> says. She half turne<d>s and glance<d>s about her, at the sawn
boards, the stacked staves, the low platform. "I reckon I'll set down a while. It's right tiring, walking <out>
on them hard streets from town. It seems like walking out here from town tired me more than all the way from
Alabama did." She move<d>s toward a low stack of staves.

"Wait," Byron <said> says. He almost <sprang> forward, slipping the tow sack pad from his shoulder. The woman arreste<d>s
herself in the act of sitting and Bryon spreads the pad on the staves. "You'll set easier," he <said> says.

"Why, you're right kind," she <said> says, sitting down.

"I reckon it'll set a little easier," Byron <said> says. He <took> takes from his pocket a huge gold watch on a heavy chain
and looke<d>s at it, then he <sat> sits too, on the platform, not exactly near her. "I reckon 5 minutes will be about
right."

"Five minutes to rest?" she <said>. says

"Five minutes from when you come in," Byron <said> says. "I keep my own time on a Saturday p.m."

"How will they know you even stopped working for a while? A few minutes wouldn't matter, would it?"

"I reckon I aint paid for setting down," Byron <said> says. "So you come from Alabama."