It was a long day in the shop both to Miner and Ambrose. Inevitably the little man had grown more morose and bitter as the years went by. For in spite of Emily's and Ambrose's pleading he had gone but seldom to his old place under the apple tree after their marriage, and when his six sisters made homes of their own he had lived entirely alone. Indeed old Moses had seemed the only companion he had ever cared for except Ambrose, and on the day of Ambrose's second marriage the dog had moved himself and his allegiance from the tall man's house to the little one's and had never gone home again except to be buried.
Ambrose kept surreptitiously watching the clock from the noon hour on until his partner removed it clean out of sight in the back of the shop: however, an hour before closing time Ambrose began putting away his share of the stock, remarking airily, "I thought I'd git away a little sooner than usual this evenin', Miner, ef you don't mind."
To this the little man at first returned nothing, but seeing his friend step over to their assortment of new neckties and laying aside his old lavender one begin to match a bright red one to the shade of his own complexion, he sighed. "I reckon you feel it comin' on agen, Ambrose?"
Ambrose nodded. "It started last night at the social," he replied truthfully, "and then those other two men's actions kind er sicked me on. Peachy has done ripened and sweetened considerable; mebbe you noticed it, Miner?" he ended hopefully.
But Miner only scowled. "She's fat and old, but t'aint nothin' to you, Ambrose Thompson, once you're started. I was kind er hopin' you'd be faithful to Em'ly."
However, in the midst of his reproach his partner had vanished; nevertheless, ten minutes later, he came back into the shop and seating himself on the counter appeared lost in thought for some little time.
"Miner," he confessed finally, "I am a-settin' here tryin' to git a little light on the subject of myself. I ain't feelin' unfaithful to Em'ly 'cause I'm noticin' the widow; I never felt unfaithful to Sarah when I married Em'ly. I tell you, Miner Hobbs, that what's workin' in me now is that I ain't able to git old and give up 'thout makin' a fight. It ain't gray hair and wrinkles that make folks hate gettin' old, it's dryin' up, losin' their spark, so to speak. Now there's nothin' that makes a man feel such an all fired lot younger as fallin' in love over agen." He laughed. "'Course I ain't recommendin' dynamite, Miner, which is fallin' in love with a new woman when you got an old one. That's my way, 'cause fate's done sent it so fer me, and we got to make our lives out of what we git. But why can't a man just start in ever so often fallin' in love agen and recourtin' his wife till he gits himself and her all woke up as in the old days? I ain't sayin' it's as easy with a stale girl as with a fresh one, but, Lord!"—and here the shadows chased each other across the luminous elderly face—"I could 'a' kep' on courtin' Em'ly till kingdom come and thanked God fer the chance, ef He had but seen fit to spare her to me so long."
And then Uncle Ambrose slipped off the counter and went away and drove Sam out to the Widow Tarwater's Red Farm, which was now twice the size it had been in her youth, since Peachy had married the young man owning the place adjoining hers.
Yet somehow Uncle Ambrose's anticipated visit proved a disappointment.
In the first place, both of his rivals were there before him, and there was something in their attitude and in the widow's manner that made him hot with the desire to get the representatives of the law and the gospel out behind a fence and have everybody roll up their sleeves. However, since no open accusations were made and a woman was present, what was there for him to do but to make a short stay and then return slowly home?—home, to live through what was perhaps the most extraordinary experience of Ambrose Thompson's entire lifetime. For nearly sixty years he had lived in the village of Pennyroyal, been a friend to all its people, his life had been there for them to see and interpret, and yet with the first breathings of calumny the record of his whole career was smirched. Still he made no protest, for what does denial count if a man's character cannot save him? His visits to the widow were continued, however, and always he found her in a flutter between affection and fear. Nevertheless, Uncle Ambrose was merely biding his time, but in the meanwhile Miner's silence and devotion were more healing than any ointment.