XVII - Him and the Front Door
I sent the kid up stairs to her room to think things over. Then I set down in our ranch room to think things over myself, because I didn't hardly know what to do.
While I was setting there in come Old Man Wright hisself from down town, and he was so happy I was shore he'd thought out some new devilment for his neighbor Wisner.
"Well, Curly," says he, "what do you know?"
"I don't know nothing that's pleasant," says I.
"Huh!" says he. "Don't you like the grub here no more, or what is it?"
"I don't like nothing about the place no more," says I. "I wish you'd foreclose on the Circle Arrow right away and us all go back there," says I. "Of course you wouldn't, but that's where you overlook a big bet, Colonel."
He looks at me serious.
"Is it as bad as that, Curly?" says he. "Sometimes I feel thataway myself, although along of me being so busy I can stand it better'n you maybe. But what kick have you got? You ain't got nothing to do—take it all around, I never seen a foreman that had less," says he.
"Huh!" says I. "That's all you know."