He struck his horse with the quirt and it bounded forward, leaving Bridgetown’s general merchant far in the rear.
It was quite agreeable to that gentleman to be left to himself. When he reached the edge of the town he reined up and gazed southward through the hazy twilight.
Miles away sounded the deep note of a steam whistle.
“Hallibut’s mill on Totherside,” mused Smythe. “I wonder if the widow is waiting and watching for me? I wonder what she is doing now?”
CHAPTER XXI
Widow Ross Backslides
Just at that particular moment the widow was frying the potatoes for supper. She was singing, and snapped the words out as though determined to do what was right under any circumstances. The mangy cat crouched beneath the stove, its lanky body sunk between its shoulder blades, its big yellow inquiring eyes staring out at Tommy, who was molding bullets over in a corner of the room. He looked back at the cat and shook his head.
“Cross the river of Jordan,
Happy, happy, happy, happy,
Oh, we’ll cross the river of Jordan,
Happy in the Lord.”