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Fluker, who had not indulged herself with a single holiday since they had been in town, left Marann in charge of the house, and rode forth, spending part of the day with Mrs. Marchman, Sim's mother. All were glad to see her, of course, and she returned smartly, freshened by the visit. That night she had a talk with Marann, and oh, how Marann did cry! The very last day came.
"I s'pose so, Matt, by good rights, a a official speakin'." Mr. Fluker felt that he was becoming a little confused. "Jes' so. Now, Pink, I were to have credics for my absentees 'cordin' to transion an' single-meal bo'ders an' sleepers; ain't that so?" "I I somethin' o' that sort, Matt," he answered vaguely. "Jes' so. Now look here," drawing from his pocket a paper. "Itom one.
But I done that out o' my respects of you an' Missis Fluker, an' your keepin' of a fa'r I'll say, as I've said freckwent, a very fa'r house. I let them infloonces go to friendship, ef you'll take it so. Will you, Pink Fluker?" "Cert'nly, Matt, an' I'm a thousand times obleeged to you, an' " "Say no more, Pink, on that p'int o' view. Ef I like a man, I know how to treat him.
Not that he had ever told her of them in so many words, but Oh, I need not stop here in the midst of this narration to explain how such intentions become known, or at least strongly suspected by girls, even those less bright than Marann Fluker.
Matt Pike say he jes' know they's money in it, an' special with a housekeeper keerful an' equinomical like you." It is always curious the extent of influence that some men have upon wives who are their superiors. Mrs. Fluker, in spite of accidents, had ever set upon her husband a value that was not recognized outside of his family.
Fluker, a stout, industrious young farmer, residing with his parents in the country near by where the Flukers had dwelt before removing to town, had been eying Marann for a year or two, and waiting upon her fast-ripening womanhood with intentions that, he believed to be hidden in his own breast, though he had taken less pains to conceal them from Marann than from the rest of his acquaintance.
Fluker having repaired to the bar-room, the former said: "Now, Pink, for our settlement, as you say your wife think we better have one. I'd 'a' been willin' to let accounts keep on a-runnin', knowin' what a straightforrards sort o' man you was. Your count, ef I ain't mistakened, is jes' thirty-three dollars, even money. Is that so, or is it not?" "That's it, to a dollar, Matt.
Fluker the suggestion to quit a business so far beneath his powers, sell out, or rent out, or tenant out, or do something else with his farm, march into town, plant himself upon the ruins of Jacob Spouter, and begin his upward soar. Now Mr. Fluker had many and many a time acknowledged that he had ambition; so one night he said to his wife: "You see how it is here, Nervy.
Peterson Fluker, generally called Pink, for his fondness for as stylish dressing as he could afford, was one of that sort of men who habitually seem busy and efficient when they are not. He had the bustling activity often noticeable in men of his size, and in one way and another had made up, as he believed, for being so much smaller than most of his adult acquaintance of the male sex.
"Nervy," said Mr. Fluker to his wife afterwards, "Matt Pike's a sensibler an' a friendlier an' a 'commodatiner feller'n I thought." Then, without giving details of the contract, he mentioned merely the willingness of their boarder to resign his bed on occasions of pressing emergency. "He's talked mighty fine to me and Marann," answered Mrs. Fluker. "We'll see how he holds out.
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