Therefore he loitered self-consciously before the stove as if to dry his wet clothing and then ambled across the room, remarking in offhand fashion:
“It’s settin’ in for quite a rain.”
“Yes, it’s a hard shower,” Mary ventured, turning a puzzled glance upon her brother. “We need it though.”
“Yes, the ground was like chalk,” agreed Martin. 142
Thrusting his hands into his trousers pockets, he took a few nervous strides around the room and, prompted by an impulse he could not have explained, he stopped and absently drew down the window shade on the side of the kitchen toward the Webster homestead.
“You didn’t get any supper after all, did you, Martin?” Jane remarked presently. “Why don’t you let me bring you a piece of fruit cake an’ a glass of milk?”
“It would taste kinder good.”
Although he had no wish for the food, the solicitude that accompanied the suggestion was just then very soothing.
“We could cook you somethin’,” Jane said, rising.
“No, no,” broke out the man impatiently. “Don’t go fussin’. I don’t want much. Just get me anything you have handy.”