“The first is my old dad—he’s gettin’ kinder broken down, and can’t work as well as he could when he was a young man. He’s got a thousand-dollar mortgage on his farm, and I want to pay that off. It’ll kinder ease the old man’s mind.”
“That’s a very excellent object, Mr. Stackpole,” said Harry, who felt still more drawn to his plain, ungainly, but evidently good-hearted companion.
“I think so myself,” said Obed simply.
“The other person is your wife, I fancy,” said Fletcher.
“I expect she will be my wife when I get forehanded enough,” replied Obed. “It’s Suke Stanwood, one of Farmer Stanwood’s gals. We was raised together, and we’ve been engaged for nigh on to five years.”
“Very romantic!” said Fletcher, but there was a veiled sneer in his tone, as he scanned with contemptuous amusement the ungainly figure of his Yankee companion.
“I don’t know much about such things,” said Obed, “but I guess Suke and I will pull together well.”
“You are not exactly a young man,” said Fletcher. “You’ve waited some time.”
“I’m thirty-nine last birthday,” said Obed. “I was engaged ten years ago, but the girl didn’t know her own mind, and she ran off with a man that came along with a photograph saloon. I guess it’s just as well, for she was always rather flighty.”
“It is very strange she should have deserted a man of your attractions,” said Fletcher, with a smile.