“I guess it’s going to take a long time,” says Mis’ Holcomb, patient. “Stubby, you needn’t wait if you’ve anything else to do.”
“Oh,” says Stubby, important, “I’ve got a present to mail.”
A present to mail! When Sodality had been feeding him for five weeks among us!
Mis’ Holcomb and I exchanged our next two glances.
“What is it, Stubby?” asks Mis’ Holcomb, that is some direct by nature and never denies herself at it.
He looked up kind of shy—he’s a nice little boy, when anybody has any time to pay any attention to him.
“It’s just this,” he said, and took it out from under his coat. It was about as big as a candy box, and he’d wrapped it up himself, and the string was so loose and the paper was so tore that they weren’t going to stay by each other past two stations.
“Mercy!” says Mis’ Holcomb, “leave me tie it up for you.”
She took it. And in order to tie it she had to untie it. And when she done that, what was in it come all untied. And she see, and we both of us see, what was in it. It was a great big pink rose, fresh and real, with a lot of soaking wet paper wrapped round the stem.
“Stubby Mosher!” says Mis’ Holcomb straight out, “where’d you get this?”