“If that’s lawyers’ lingo for our deestrick meetin’,” replied the indignant farmer, “it’s set for ha’f-past seven.”
“You can drive back to the village,” directed the Squire as he passed Purday. The deputy had been comfortably lolling on the waggon seat, his legs hooked over the dashboard. “I’ll come along when I get ready. I ain’t afraid to foot it.”
The mellowness of the waning afternoon was chilled a bit by the first breeze of autumn that crept over the ledges of Nubble Hill.
Squire Phin turned up his collar, clasped his hands behind his back, and started down the road toward the school house. The old dog Eli, who had been routed from under the waggon seat by the deputy, scuffed along the gutter through the dry grasses.
“If there’s anything lonesomer, Eli, than outdoors at this time of year,” mused the lawyer, “it’s the empty chamber in some of the human hearts that we know about.”
All the eyes of the little neighbourhood were watching the Squire when he turned in at the yard of the school house and disappeared in the entry-way.
But it was chore time and supper time, and the Dunham district people went about their tasks, mumbling surmise as to what the Squire intended to do. Mrs. Micajah Dunham remained at Uncle Paul Appleby’s gate, her gimlet gaze still on the school house. There was nothing to see, but she didn’t have anything else to do. For the first time since she could remember she wasn’t busy with supper-getting at that hour of the day, and she was conscious of something lacking, something discomforting. Her hands twitched when she heard the rattle of dishes within doors. She looked across at the old home. There was no trail of smoke from the chimney.
“Cold vittles is good enough for him,” she reflected bitterly. “I wisht he’d choke on what I’ve left cooked up.”
Her hard gaze did not soften when she saw her husband come out of the cellar door, shoulders humped, dragging his feet spiritlessly, the milk pails dangling from his lifeless arms. A gray cat was at his heels.
“I don’t want Betsy to starve along with him,” grumbled Esther, and she called stridently, “Kit-te-e-e! Kit-te-e-e! Come, kit-te-e-e!”