“Not if he comes for cakes and ale,” I assented, biting into a cheese cake with relish.
“No—nor if he comes for nothing. Punctuality is my hobby. Yes, it be, s-ship-mate. There’s twice the spice to an adventure if it’s pulled off when it should be. Cool your heels fifteen minutes, or a half hour, waiting for the party of the second part, and you don’t give a—ahem!—what becomes of the expedition. Yes, sir! the keen whet has gone if you have to wait over long for the other fellow. That chap is a borrowin’—no! he’s stealin’ your time. And I don’t borrow—and I don’t like to lend—and you can’t respect a thief. So there you are!” He looked at me, grinned mendaciously, and continued: “The other fellow gets the cream of the whole adventure. He’s probably takin’ a drink with some other old crony while you’re waitin’.”
“But that doesn’t apply in this case,” I reminded him, calmly helping myself to another of Wanza’s delicious cheese cakes.
“Not in this case. No, sir! Father O’Shan’s probably been held up by some one with a long-winded yarn of how the poor wife’s adyin’ of consumption, and the kids of starvation. The Father’s heart’s that s-soft he’d s-strip the coat from his back to give it to a beggar.”
“Yes,” I said, “I well know that. Wanza has told me as much.”
“Wanza knows she hasn’t any better friends than Father O’Shan and the sisters at the old Mission up De Smet way.” The smiling face lengthened, he filled his pipe from the tobacco jar at his elbow, and tamped down the weed with a broad forefinger. “Wanza’s a high strung girl, Mr. Dale, she’s peppery, and she’s headstrong, but Sister Veronica can do almost anything with her, ay! since the time when I brought her out to the river country with me, a poor, sick, wee, motherless lass, pretty nigh sixteen years ago. She’s larned all she knows of the sisters about cooking and sewing and the like.”
“And we know that is considerable,” I said.
“She’s quite some cook, I make no doubt. There ain’t much Wanza don’t know about a house.”
“How do you manage during Wanza’s busy season when she is absent so much in her cart? She seems to be a very busy saleswoman these days,” I remarked.
“Well, the days are lonesome like. But she’s hardly ever gone more’n a night or two at a time—the gal never neglects her old dad. Once a week she tidies and bakes regular. I am used to bachin’ it too, it seems natural to cook vittles, and sweep—jest like old times. I allow it’s great. The most bothersome thing I have to do nowadays is ’tendin’ the flowers. Wanza’s got such a posy garden it sure gets to be a nuisance some days when my joints be stiffer than common.”