If a ten-cent piece fell off the shelf in the
middle of the night he'd hear it, though I've known him to sleep while
the minister's barn burned down. The parson had been preachin' against
horse-tradin'; maybe that sermon was responsible for some of the
morphine influence."
Sylvester was enjoying himself hugely. Captain Elisha's exuberant
comments were great fun for him. "This is what I came for," he confided
to Caroline. "I don't care if it rains or snows. I could sit and listen
to your uncle for a year and never tire. He's a wonder. And I'm crazy to
see that housekeeper of his. If she lives up to her reputation there'll
be no disappointment in my Thanksgiving celebration."
Dan, the captain's hired man, met them with the carriage at the station,
and Miss Baker met them at the door of the Warren home. The exterior
of the big, old-fashioned, rambling house was inviting and homelike,
in spite of the gloomy weather, and Caroline cheered up a bit when they
turned in at the gate. Five minutes of Miss Abigail's society, and all
gloom disappeared. One could not be gloomy where Miss Abbie was. Her
smile of welcome was so broad that, as her employer said, "it took in
all outdoor and some of Punkhorn Neck," a place which, he hastened to
add, "was forgot durin' creation and has sort of happened of itself
since.
Pages:
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438