“How do you know? Who is it, then?”
I hesitated. Before noon of the next day every soul in Denboro would have heard the news. Eldredge might as well hear it now.
“I've taken the place myself,” I said.
“You?” Sim actually forgot to whisper; he shouted the word. “YOU! Ha! ha! ha! Ros, quit your foolin'.”
“I'm not fooling. I go to work in the bank to-morrow morning.”
“But—Oh, my soul! You! Aw, I know better! Say, Ros, don't let's waste time like this. Fun's all right, but . . . My heavens to Betsy! YOU work for a livin'! If I believed that I'd believe anything. Tell me, now. Who has got that job? . . . Why don't you answer me?”
I answered him. “Shut up!” I said, fiercely. Then I vaulted the fence and set out for home across lots.
I heard the next day that Sim went back to the post-office and informed the gathering there that Ros Paine had taken to drinking.
“He was tight as a biled owl,” declared Sim; “and ugly—don't talk! Wanted to fight me because I wouldn't believe he was goin' to work. Him! What in the everlastin' would HE want to work for? My heavens to Betsy!”