“Emarine ast me, Orville—she ast me to dinner o’ herself! An’ she give me this shawl. I’m—cryin’—fer—joy——”
“I ast her to dinner,” said Emarine, “but she ain’t ever goin’ back again. She’s goin’ to stay. I expect we’ve both had enough of a lesson to do us.”
Orville did not speak. He fell on his knees and laid his head, like a boy, in his mother’s lap, and reached one strong but trembling arm up to his wife’s waist, drawing her down to him.
Mrs. Endey got up and went to rattling things around on the table vigorously. “Well, I never see sech a pack o’ loonatics!” she exclaimed. “Go an’ burn all your Christmas dinner up, if I don’t look after it! Turncoats! I expect they’ll both be fallin’ over theirselves to knuckle-down to each other from now on! I never see!”
But there was something in her eyes, too, that made them beautiful.
THE CUTTIN’-OUT OF BART WINN
THE CUTTIN’-OUT OF BART WINN
“Lavin-ee!”
“Well?”
Mrs. Vaiden came to the foot of the stairs.