THE WOLF SCRATCHES
Mormon Joe had underestimated Jasper Toomey’s capacity for extravagance and mismanagement when he had given him five years to “go broke” in, as he had accomplished it in four most effectively—so completely, in fact, that they had moved into town with only enough furniture to furnish a small house, which they spoke of as having “rented,” though as yet the owner had had nothing but promises to compensate him for their occupancy.
It was close to a year after their advent in Prouty that Mrs. Toomey awakened in the small hours, listened a moment, then prodded her husband sharply:
“The wind’s coming up, Jap, and I left out my washing.”
“Never mind—I’ll borrow a saddle horse in the morning and go after it.”
“Everything will be whipped to ribbons,” she declared plaintively.
“I’m not going out this time of night to collect laundry; besides, the exercise would make me hungrier.”
“Are you hungry, Jap?”
“Hungry! I’ve been lying here thinking of everything I ever left on my plate since I was a baby!”
Mrs. Toomey sighed deeply.