“Well, I guess he likes you.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“He told me that the boss was a nice lady. He wouldn’t say that unless he liked you, would he?”
“I don’t know, I’m sure. I hope he likes me, Larry.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I’ve got to cut some wood.”
It was after twelve o’clock when Whispering beat the dinner gong, and Sailor came up from the stable with Larry. Whispering asked Nan whether they should carry her to the table or serve her meal out there. She decided in favour of eating on the porch.
It was Sailor who brought the tray out there. Nan held it, while Sailor brought out a small table.
“You carried my message to Mr. Baggs, didn’t you, Sailor?” she asked, still holding the tray in both hands.
“No, ma’am, I didn’t,” he said. “Couldn’t find him last night, and I plumb forgot to tell yuh this mornin’.”
The tray slipped from Nan’s fingers, struck on her two knees and went upside down on the porch, the dishes clattering down the steps. Her arms fell limply to her sides and she sagged back in her chair, her face turning white.