"When?"
"Now."
"But, Hosey! Pinky—this flat—until June—"
"Now! Unless you want to stay. Unless you like it here in this—this make-believe, double-barreled, duplex do-funny of a studio thing. Let's go home, mother. Let's go home—and breathe."
In Wisconsin you are likely to find snow in April—snow or slush. The
Brewsters found both. Yet on their way up from the station in 'Gene
Buck's flivver taxi, they beamed out at it as if it were a carpet of
daisies.
At the corner of Elm and Jackson Streets Hosey Brewster stuck his head out of the window. "Stop here a minute, will you, 'Gene?"
They stopped in front of Hengel's meat market, and Hosey went in. Mrs.
Brewster leaned back without comment.
Inside the shop. "Well, I see you're back from the East," said Aug
Hengel.
"Yep."
"We thought you'd given us the go-by, you stayed away so long."