“Can you do that?” Amelia was delighted.
“Yes, ma’m. I’ll measure it right now.”
Covey watched him hurry across the yard, draw a piece of string from somewhere about him, and with clear-cut, precise movements measure the height and width between the two posts.
“I’ll have to allow for straightenin’ these posts and the swing in and out, but I’m sure I can find the right sort of pieces in the barn,” he explained. “If it’s all right with Mr. Covey.”
“Oh, I’m sure he won’t mind.”
The next thing, Amelia was coming toward him. His wife’s sister certainly wasn’t as droopy as she used to be. Didn’t seem to be moping around any more.
“Mr. Covey, don’t you think it would be very nice if Fred makes us a new gate? He says he can. It’ll help the appearance of the whole yard.”
Yes, she sure had perked up.
“Go ahead,” he grunted.
Fred made one last calculation with his string. “I’ll go see about the wood right away,” he said, and turned to leave.