"Why, girl," I explained, "it's no more than I would have to do if we took a homestead out west. I'd as soon dig in Massachusetts as Montana."
She felt of my arm. It's a big arm. Then she smiled. It was the last time she mentioned the subject.
We didn't say anything to the neighbors until the furniture began to go out. Then the women flocked in and Ruth was hard pressed to keep our secret. I sat upstairs and chuckled as I heard her replies. She says it's the only time I ever failed to stand by her, but it didn't seem to me like anything but a joke.
"We shall want to keep track of you," said little Mrs. Grover. "Where shall we address you?"
"Oh, I can't tell," answered Ruth, truthfully enough.
"Are you going far?"
"Yes. Oh—a long, long way."
That was true enough too. We couldn't have gone farther out of their lives if we'd sailed for Australia.
And so they kept it up. That night we made a round of the houses and everyone was very much surprised and very much grieved and very curious. To all their inquiries, I made the same reply; that I was going to emigrate. Some of them looked wistful.
"Jove," said Brown, who was with the insurance company, "but I wish I had the nerve to do that. I suppose you're going west?"