She turned from me, sniffing the air. “That cake’s about done, I’ll warrant. Call Joey, Mr. Dale, and I’ll put the mush on the table, and see to the icing.”
Somehow the meal did not pass off with the degree of festivity I had hoped for. Wanza watched me from under her thick lashes in a most disconcerting manner as we chatted desultorily, and my little lad was unusually silent. I felt that I had not atoned to Joey for the long, arduous day through which he had passed, that its memory lay like a shadow over the present gala hour. To lighten it in some measure I ventured a proposal.
“Joey,” I said, speaking abruptly as a silence threatened to engulf us, “how would you like to go gipsying with me for a few days?”
“Gipsying,” Joey repeated. His face was illumined as he caught my eye and partially sensed my meaning. “Does gipsying mean living in a covered wagon, Mr. David, and cooking bacon on sticks over a camp fire?”
I nodded. “All that and more, Joey. It means wonderful things, lad. It means faring forth into the greenwood in a caravan in the rosy dawn of a summer day, finding the most alluring trail that leads to the most secretive of trout streams, lounging in the shade of spreading trees at noon time, eating a snack of bread and cheese, poring over a treasured book for an hour while you drowse back half dreaming to all the pleasant happenings of your youth. Then when it’s cooler faring on again, till the sun begins to drop behind the mountains and hunger seizes you by the throat—”
I broke off, catching sight of Joey’s rapt face. It was radiant and eager and wistful all at once.
“Mr. David,” he said, pushing back his plate, “let’s go!”
“If you don’t go after saying what you’ve just said—” Wanza shook her head at me, and left her sentence unfinished.
“I could not have found it in my heart to paint such a picture, Wanza girl,” I replied, “had I not intended to give Joey the opportunity to compare it with the reality. We will stretch the old tarpaulin over the ranch wagon in the morning, stow away some bacon and cornmeal and a frying pan, harness Buttons to the caravan, and go out into the greenwood to tilt a lance with fortune.”
I laughed as I spoke; but a weariness of spirit that I had been struggling all the evening to combat lay heavily upon me. Well, would it be for me, I said to myself, to get away from Cedar Dale for a few days. I had felt an impelling hunger to see my wonder woman again; I had been restless for days consumed with the hunger; now I had seen her, and a new strange pain had been born to replace the former craving. I was in worse stress than before.