They were staring at him. “Al,” Ma said at last, “we’re glad. We’re awful glad.”
“You are?”
“Why, ’course we are. You’re a growed man. You need a wife. But don’ go right now, Al.”
“I promised Aggie,” he said. “We got to go. We can’t stan’ this no more.”
“Jus’ stay till spring,” Ma begged. “Jus’ till spring. Won’t you stay till spring? Who’d drive the truck?”
“Well—”
Mrs. Wainwright put her head around the curtain. “You heard yet?” she demanded.
“Yeah! Jus’ heard.”
“Oh, my! I wisht—I wisht we had a cake. I wisht we had—a cake or somepin.”
“I’ll set on some coffee an’ make up some pancakes,” Ma said. “We got sirup.”