Part 42 (1/2)

”'These kind I sell,' I says, 'are the kind that catch and store the electricity in a tank down cellar. Durin' a thunder-storm you can save up enough to rock the baby and run the churn for a week or two.'

”'I want 'o know,' he says. 'Well, we 'ain't got a baby and no churn--but mebbe it would run a cream-separator?'

”'Sure it would.'

”All the time we was a-jos.h.i.+n' this way he was a-studyin' me--and finally he said:

”'You can't fool me, Ed. How are ye?'

”And we shook hands. I always liked the old cuss. He was a great reader--always talkin' about Napoleon--he'd been a great man if he'd ever got off the farm and into something that required just his kind o'

brain-work.

”'Come in,' he says. 'Nance will want to see you.'

”The minute he said that I had a queer feelin' at the pit o' my stummick--I did, sure thing. 'It's a little early for a call,' I says, 'and I ain't in Sunday clothes.'

”'That don't matter,' he says; 'she'll be glad to see you any time.'

”You'd 'a' thought I'd been gone eleven weeks instead of eleven years.

”Nance wasn't a bit like her dad. She always looked s.h.i.+pshape, no matter what she was a-doin'. She was in the kitchen, busy as a gasoline-motor, when we busted through the door.

”'Nance!' the old man called out, 'here's Ed Hatch.'

”She didn't do any fancy stunts. She just straightened up and looked at me kind o' steady for a minute, and then came over to shake hands.

”'I'm glad to see you back, Ed,' she says.”

The stress of this meeting was still over him, as I could see and hear, and I waited for him to go on.

”She hadn't changed as much as mother. She was older and sadder and kind o' subdued, and her hand felt calloused, but I'd 'a' known her anywhere. She was dressed in a blue calico dress, but she was sure handsome still, and I said to her:

”'You need a change of climate,' I says, 'and a different kind of boss.

Colorado's where you ought to be,' I went on.

”For half an hour I kept banterin' her like that, and though she got pink now and then, she didn't seem to understand--or if she did she didn't let on. She stuck to her work whilst the old man and me watched her. Seein' her going about that kitchen that way got me locoed. I always liked to watch mother in the kitchen--and Nance was a genuine housekeeper, I always knew that.

”Finally I says:

”'I hain't got any buggy, Nance--the old man wouldn't let me have one last Sunday--I mean eleven years ago--that's what threw me off the track--but I've got a forty-horse-power car out here. Suppose you put on your best ap.r.o.n and take a ride with me.'

”She made some words as women will, but she got ready, and she did look handsomer than ever as she came out. She was excited, I could see that, but she was all there! No jugglin' or fussin'.

”'Climb in the front seat, dad,' I says. 'It's me and Nance to the private box. Turn on the juice,' I says to the driver.

”Well, sir, we burned up all the grease in the box lookin' up the old neighbors and the places we used to visit with horse and buggy--and every time I spoke to the old man I called him 'Dad'--and finally we fetched up at the biggest hotel in the town and had dinner together.

”Then I says: 'Dad, you better lay down and snooze. Nance and me are goin' out for a walk.'

”The town had swelled up some, but one or two of the old stores was there, and as we walked past the windows I says: 'Remember the time we stood here and wished we could buy things?'