Aunty Bell sank into a chair, her hands twisted in her apron, the tears starting in her eyes.
“Who says so?”
“Telegram—come in the night,” he answered, almost breathless, throwing the yellow envelope into her lap. “Git me a clean shirt quick as God’ll let ye. I ain’t got but ten minutes to catch that eight-ten train.”
“But ye ain’t a-goin’ till ye see Caleb, be ye? He won’t like it, maybe, if”—
“Don’t ye stop there talkin’, Aunty Bell. Do as I tell ye,” he said, stripping off his suspenders and tugging at his blue flannel shirt. “I ain’t a-goin’ to stop for nobody nor nothin’. That little gal’s fetched up hard jes’ where I knowed she would, an’ I won’t have a minute’s peace till I git my hands onto her. I ain’t slep’ a night since she left, an’ you know it.”
“How do ye know she’ll come with ye?” asked Aunty Bell, as she gave him his shirt. Her hands were trembling.
“I ain’t a-worritin’,” he answered, thrusting his head and big chest into the stiff garment; fumbling, as he spoke, with his brown hands, for the buttons. “Gimme that collar.”
“Well, I’m kind’er wonderin’ if ye hadn’t better let Caleb know. I don’t know what Caleb’ll say”—
“I ain’t a-carin’ what Caleb says. I’ll stop that leak when I git to 't.” He held his breath for a moment and clutched the porcelain button with his big fingers, trying to screw it into his collar, as if it had been a nut on a bolt. “Here, catch hold o’ this button; it’s so plaguy tight. No,—I don’t want no toothbrush, nor nothin’. I wouldn’t ’er come home at all, but I was so gormed up, an’ she’s along with them Leroy folks Mr. Sanford knows. My—my”—he continued, forcing his great arms through the tight sleeves of his Sunday coat with a humping motion of his back, and starting toward the door. “Jes’ to think o’ Betty wanderin’ ’bout them streets at night!”
“Why, ye ain’t got no cravat on, Cap’n Joe!” called Aunty Bell, running after him, tie in hand, to the porch.