"She never was strong," said Mrs. Meech, sitting limp and disconsolate
on the porch. "Mr. Meech and I never thought to keep her this long.
The doctor says it's the beginning of the end. She's so patient it's
enough to break your heart."
Sandy went without his dinner that day, and tramped to town and back,
in the glare of the noon sun, to get her a basket of fruit. Then he
wrote her a letter so full of affection and sympathy that it brought
the tears to his own eyes as he wrote. He took the basket with the
note and left them at her door, after which he promptly forgot all
about her. For his whole purpose in life these days, aside from
assisting the government in the distribution of mail and reading a
musty old volume of Blackstone, was learning to dance.
In ten days was the opening of the county fair, and Sandy had received
an invitation to be present at the fair hop, which was the social
excitement of the season. It was to be his introduction into society,
and he was determined to acquit himself with credit.
He assiduously practised the two-step in the back room of the
post-office when the other clerk was out for lunch; he tried elaborate
and ornate bows upon Aunt Melvy, who considered even the mildest "reel
chune" a direct communication from the devil.
Pages:
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90