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"Well, there's nothin' like the mornin'!" "No," answered Dilly, smiling at him with the radiance of one who carries good news, "except night-time! There's a good deal in that!" And while Eli went gravely on, pondering according to his wont, she ran up to smooth her tumbled bed. After breakfast, while Mrs. Pike was carrying away the dishes, Dilly called Jethro softly to one side.
Hopkins gazed at him in admiration, leaned out of the perpendicular, and promptly drew from his trousers' pocket a roll of stupendous proportions. Wetting his thumb, he began to push aside the top bills. "How much is it?" he demanded. But Jethro put up his hand. "No hurry, Alvy n-no hurry. H-Honorable Alvy Hopkins of Gosport p-patron of the theatre.
"To honor God," said Cynthia, with a shade lacking in the conviction, for she added hurriedly: "It isn't right for you to go to church to see anybody. You go there to hear the Scriptures expounded, and to have your sins forgiven. Because I lent you that book, and you come to meeting, people think I'm converting you." "So you be," replied Jethro, and this time it was he who smiled, "so you be."
Some people were plainly delighted; the veterans, once recovered from their surprise, shouted their reminiscences above the music, undismayed; Jethro held on to himself until the refrain, when he began to squirm, and as soon as the tune was done and the scattering applause had died down, he reached over and grabbed Mr. Amasa Beard by the knee. Mr.
Emily held out her hand; the kind feeling that had been roused in her glittered prettily in her eyes. "I am afraid I have not done you justice," she said. "Will you forgive me and shake hands?" Miss Jethro rose, and drew back. "Look at the light!" she exclaimed. The candle was all burned out. Emily still offered her hand and still Miss Jethro refused to see it.
What, in this case, but an early and late sweetness, a wordless gift, a silent form floating soft by his side something seeking and not saying, hoping and not proving, burning and as yet scarce daring and so, perhaps, dying. Then he saw her. She lay in an angle of the cover, habited in that swimming suit she had plagued Jethro into buying, for she could swim like a dog.
Bixby gave him another admiring look. "Knows you didn't come down here with Jethro jest to see the sights." At this instant the talk in the dining room fell flat, and looking up William Wetherell perceived a portly, rubicund man of middle age being shown to his seat by the headwaiter. The gentleman wore a great, glittering diamond in his shirt, and a watch chain that contained much fine gold.
There was the village green in the cool evening light, and the flagstaff with its tip silvered by the departing sun. She waved to Rias and Lem and Moses at the store, but she drove on to the tannery house, and hitched the horse at the rough granite post, and went in, and through the house, softly, to the kitchen. Jethro was standing in the doorway, and did not turn.
I'll be back pretty soon." Her father watched her as she walked away. The thought crossed his mind that possibly Nelson Howard might be visiting the village that forenoon. He called her name, and she turned and came back. "What is it, father?" she asked. Jethro hesitated. He passed a hand across his forehead. His head felt tired. Somehow he didn't want to talk any more.
Neither of them heard a knock, and they both stared dumfounded at the man who filled the doorway. It was Jethro Bass! He entered the room with characteristic unconcern, as if he had just left it on a trivial errand, and without a "How do you do?" or a "Good evening," parted his coat tails, and sat down in the judge's armchair.
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