Abbie was dressed in her Sunday togs and her hair was
frizzed till she couldn't wrinkle her forehead. If the truth was known,
I cal'late she'd seen Kenelm go past her house on the way downtown and
was layin' for him when he come back, but she acted dreadful surprised.
"'Why, Mr. Parker!' says she, 'how DO you do? Seems's if I hadn't
seen you for an age! Ain't it dreadful lonesome at your house now your
sister's away?'
"Kenelm colored up some--he always h'isted danger signals when women
heave in sight--and agreed that 'twas kind of poky bein' all alone. Then
they talked about the weather, and about the price of coal, and about
the new plush coat Cap'n Jabez Bailey's wife had just got, and how folks
didn't see how she could afford it with Jabez out of work, and so
on. And all the time the smell of things cookin' drifted through the
doorway. Fin'lly Abbie says, says she:
"'Was you goin' home, Mr. Parker?'
"'Yes, ma'am,' says Kenelm. 'I was cal'latin' to go home and cook
somethin' for dinner.'
"'Well, there, now!' says Abbie. 'I wonder why I didn't think of it
afore! Why don't you come right in and have dinner with me? It's ALL
ready and there's plenty for two. DO come, Mr. Parker, to please ME!'
"'Course Kenelm said he couldn't, and, likewise, of course, he did.
'Twas a smashin' dinner--chicken and mashed potatoes and mince pie, and
the land knows what. He ate till he was full clear to the hatches,
and it seemed to him that nothin' ever tasted quite so good.
Pages:
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110