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She was seeing Gert's twenty-two inches." "But honest, Phonzie, take a girl like Gert, even with her figure, she Oh, I don't know, there's something about her!" "She may rub your fur the wrong way, madam, but under all her flip ways they don't come no finer than Gert." "No, it ain't that, only she don't always get across.
Say, you got more real sense in your little finger than three of Gert's kind put together." She colored like a wild rose. "Sense ain't what counts with the men nowadays; it's looks and and speed like Gert's." "Girls like Gert are all right, I tell you; but say, when it comes to real brains like yours nobody home."
There was nothing to do but go home and call her niece. Climbing the hill to the village green, Patrick had an urge to drive to Willow's, but he decided against it. He had to call Gert's niece, and it wasn't his truck. He parked behind Mower's Market and walked directly home. He found the number in a small book that Gert kept by the phone. "Ginger?" "Yes."
"You mustn't feel bad, honey, that Ed couldn't get John Gilly to come around and call after you. Ed says he'd never get him to steam up his nerve enough to call at a girl's house after her; but ain't it enough he's coming to Gert's to-night just to meet you? You ought to heard him when Ed got to telling him what kind of a girl you was. 'Gee! Ed says he says.
You're here early." "I took the day off." "So, what happened?" Willow pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. "Ginger showed up late, around eleven. We talked." "What's she like?" "Not bad. Solid. She's married to an accountant in St. Louis, I told you. She has a couple of kids in college. She is Gert's only close relative. Anyway, she's taking care of things.
"It sure is," she said, assuming an attitude of conversation. "Like I tell Gert, it makes me young again myself." "It sure does." "Give it to 'em in the house, I say, and it keeps 'em in off the street." "Your daughter is sure one pretty girl." "Gert's a good-enough girl, if I could keep her in. I tell 'er of all my young ones she's the prettiest and the sassiest. Law, how that girl can sass!"
A dame will fall for any sort of a rag stuck on a figure like Gert's, and think the waist-line and all is thrown in with the dress. You seen for yourself Van Ness order five gowns right off Gert's back to-day. Would she have fallen for them if we had shown them in the hand? Not much! She forgot all about her own thirty-eight waist-line when she ordered that pink organdie.
His parents and Molly were the only people who wrote to him. They were used to mailing to General Delivery wherever he was living; he hadn't given them Gert's address. And anyway, summer wasn't going to last forever; he wasn't sure how long he'd be around Woodstock. Willow. He couldn't really think about her. She was too new, too big, or something.
There was a police car in front of Gert's when Wilson dropped him off after work. "What's happening?" Patrick asked. "You staying here?" "Yes." "Name, please." The cop wrote his name down in a small notebook. "Mrs. Willett's been taken to the hospital," he said. "Oh, no," Patrick said. "Sick. Heart attack, maybe," the cop said. "Where is the hospital?" "Kingston." "Damn," Patrick said.
And come and have dinner with us sometime, won't you?" "That would be nice," Patrick said. Martin dropped him at Gert's and wished him luck. "Oh, yeah," Patrick said as he was half out of the car. "Do you know where Mead's Meadow is?" "Sure. It's near the top on the other side, after you pass the Mountain House. Right up Rock City Road, up and over. You go down a hill, and the road bends left.
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