"I haven't decided about Boston yet." (Jenny's heart leaped into her mouth and stopped her breath.) "As for the company, Mrs. Day could come, Alfinso and Alfonso (hateful little beggar, Alfonso!), Mrs. Strout, who boards me; and there's the station master that advised me to come to you for a job, and the man I bought the shingles of, and the storekeeper we owe for nails—that's quite a good crowd! You put in a few lady friends and I believe we could frame up a party that would make Boston look dull. What's the matter with the parson? Why couldn't he come? You're in his parish, aren't you?"
Jenny swayed to and fro with mirth. The point of view was so fresh, so young, so unlike Riverboro. "You don't know how funny you are!" she exclaimed. "The minister calls twice a year, but always in summer."
"Tell him to make it once and come Christmas Eve!" said Rufus, imperturbably. "Tell him your leaks are stopped and you'll show him a wounded soldier who did the shingling. 'Feature' me, don't you know? Tell him you'll have my Medal of Honor on the marble-top table."
"You've never shown it to me," said Jenny, softly.
"It's in Boston with my best clothes. Besides I've told you all about it. There happened to be a lot of fellows about when I was up against a hard job and they told on me. The boys didn't all have that luck or the U.S.A. couldn't have turned out medals enough to go around.... Now it's time to work again. You think about that Christmas party before I buy my ticket to Boston. I'm going to patch up that bad place by the chimney," and Rufus went out the shed door and mounted the ladder.
Oh! the terrors of that high ladder and that sloping roof to Jenny, from the very beginning! With a white, knit cape over her shoulders and a white scarf tied round her head, she used to limp to some unseen point of vantage and watch Rufus with her heart in her mouth, lest he should slip and lose his hold. Sometimes he would catch her at her post, and looking down, think that her face looked like a love-apple, all pinky red and creamy white. And the warm glow of having some one down below caring a little whether he slipped—he, Rufus Holt, a down-and-outer!
He never did make a misstep, for he was a very demon of ingenuity and skill in using his one arm.
"Brave, clever, good, big-hearted!" sang Jenny's heart from the ground.
"Plucky, cheery, sweet and sound!" sang the heart of Rufus from the roof—but neither of them said anything in words.
Mrs. Day said considerable, but she liked Jenny Lane and stood up for her when the postmistress said there was more in that shingling business than met the eye.