And he hugged me grand.
Then he ran back down the path, throwing his legs out sideways, kind of like a little calf, the way he does. And I set down on the side stoop, and I cried.
"Oh, blessed God," I says, "supposing Bennie was running round Europe with a brick, waiting five hours in the mud for milk for his ma, that he ain't got none?"
When I feel like that, I can't sit still. I have to walk. So I opened the side gate and left Bennie run through into Mis' Holcomb's yard, that was ironing on her back porch, and I says to her to please keep an eye on him. And then I headed down the street, towards nothing; and my heart just filled out ready to blow up.
As I went, I heard a bell strike. It was a strange bell, and I wondered. Then I remembered.
"The new Town Hall's new bell," I thought. "It's come and it's up. They're trying it."
And it seemed like the voice of the town, saying something.
In the door of the newspaper office sat the editor, Luke Norris, his red face and black hair buried behind a tore newspaper.
"Hello, Luke," I says, sheer out of wanting human looks and words from somebody.