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But his mother stroked his hair and called him her big boy.... He tramped out to Bone Stillman's shack, impatient for the hand-clasp of the pioneer, and grew eloquent, for the first time since his home-coming, as he described Professor Frazer and the delights of poesy. A busy week Carl had in Joralemon. Adelaide Benner gave a porch-supper for him.
When, in October, a new bank clerk stormed, meteor-like, the Joralemon social horizon, and became devoted to Gertie, as faithfully reported in letters from Joe Jordan, Carl was melancholy over the loss of a comrade.
When they reached Joralemon she was radiant with holiday-making. Her eagerness began to lessen the moment they stopped at a red frame station exactly like the one they had just left at Gopher Prairie, and Kennicott yawned, "Right on time. Just in time for dinner at the Calibrees'. I 'phoned the doctor from G. P. that we'd be here. 'We'll catch the freight that gets in before twelve, I told him.
"Lord!" sighs Carl Ericson from Joralemon, "this is what I've wanted ever since I was a kid."
Gertie appeared interested, and smiled at regular intervals, but so soon as Carl fumbled at one of Frazer's abstract theories she interrupted him with highly concrete Joralemon gossip.... He suspected that she had not kept up with the times.
It was raw woman, with all the proprieties of Joralemon and St. Orgul's cut away, who spoke, her voice constantly rising: "Oh, Carl Carl! Oh, why, why, why! Oh, why don't you want me to go walking with you, now? Why don't you want to go anywhere with me any more? Have I displeased you? Oh, I didn't mean to! Why do I bore you so?" "Oh Gertie oh gee! thunder!" whimpered a dismayed youth.
"Yes." "Joralemon is an enterprising town, don't you think so?" She broke. "No! I think it's an ash-heap." "Why, Carrie!" He worried over it for a week. While he ground his plate with his knife as he energetically pursued fragments of bacon, he peeped at her. "CARRIE'S all right. She's finicky, but she'll get over it. But I wish she'd hurry up about it!
From Titherington, the aviator, in his Devonshire home, from a millionaire amateur flier among the orange-groves at Pasadena, from his carpenter father in Joralemon, and from Gertie in New York, Carl had invitations for Christmas, but none that he could accept. VanZile had said, pleasantly, "Going out to the country for Christmas?" "Yes," Cal had lied.
Joralemon welcomes you to her hospitable city. Kennicott read the poster and to Calibree admired, "Strong lodge, the Beavers. Never joined. Don't know but what I will." Calibree adumbrated, "They're a good bunch. Good strong lodge. See that fellow there that's playing the snare drum? He's the smartest wholesale grocer in Duluth, they say. Guess it would be worth joining.
The stilly rhythm of frogs drowned the clank of their pedals, and the sky was vast and pale and wistful. Gertie, however, seemed less cheerful. On the last evening of his stay in Joralemon Gertie gave him a hay-ride party.
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