Half reluctantly, as though swayed by conflicting emotions the youngster laid down his fork and accompanied the hospitable stranger. Twice, during the course of the meal which was provided for him, he paused from eating to voice his fears that “Paw” would be seriously annoyed for his failure to complete the job of replacing that hay. Each time his host reassured him, meanwhile pressing fresh helpings of this and that upon his young guest.
Finally, at the end of half an hour or so, the boy pushed his chair back from the table and rose up.
“I guess I’ll be goin’ now,” he said. “Paw’ll want I should get that hay forked up. I expect he’ll be mighty pestered with me.”
“Why need your father know anything at all about it?” said the gentleman.
“Why, Paw must know about it already,” explained the youngster.
“Where is your father?” asked the city-man. “I didn’t see him as I came along.”
“He’s under the hay,” stated the youngster simply.
§ 361 Consolation for the Imperilled One
In a California town is an old family physician with rather a caustic wit. He was in attendance at the confinement of a lady whom we will call Mrs. A—a wife of a year. There were no complications; the affair was progressing as well as might reasonably be expected.
But the husband was in a distressful state. While sympathetic friends endeavored vainly to calm him he walked the floor of the room adjoining the sick room. At frequent intervals he beat upon the connecting door and from those within pleaded for assurance that all was going well. Yet the answers, while consoling, did not avail to soothe his agitation. What the midwife told him only seemed to harass him the more. Messages of cheer from the trained nurse were received by him with choked groaning sounds.