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Updated: June 16, 2025
"Well, hadn't you better take them off then?" suggested Johnson, still following her up. "Give a man an inch an' he'll be at Sank Hosey before you know it!" she flung at him over her shoulder, and made straightway for the bureau.
They stopped in front of Hengel's meat market, and Hosey went in. Mrs. Brewster leaned back without comment. Inside the shop. "Well, I see you're back from the East," said Aug Hengel. "Yep." "We thought you'd given us the go-by, you stayed away so long." "No, sir-ree! Say, Aug, give me that piece of bacon the big piece. And send me up some corned beef to-morrow, for corned beef and cabbage.
Both of you will love it when you are there for a few days. I don't mean to come to a hotel. I mean to take a little apartment, a furnished apartment at first, to see how you like it two rooms and kitchenette, like a playhouse." Hosey Brewster looked down at his own big bulk, then around the great furnace room. "Oh, but listen " "No, I want you to listen first. Mother's worn out, I tell you.
It was one morning in April one soft, golden April morning when this memory had struck Hosey Brewster. He had been down at Fulton Market. Something about the place the dewy fresh vegetables, the crates of eggs, the butter, the cheese had brought such a surge of homesickness to him as to amount to an actual nausea.
"What's the matter, Pink? Don't they like your covers any more?" "Not a thing, Hosey. Don't get fresh. They're decorating my studio you know plasterers and stuff. I couldn't work. And I was lonesome for you." Hosea Brewster went to the open doorway and gave a long whistle with a little quirk at the end. Then he came back to Pinky in the wide-seated porch swing.
He turned the knob gently, gently; tiptoed in and, turning, fell over a heavy wooden object that lay directly in his path in the dim little hall. A barked shin. A good, round oath. "Hosey! What's the matter? What " She came running to him. She led him into the bright front room. "What was that thing? A box or something, right there in front of the door. What the " "Oh, I'm so sorry, Hosey.
"Now she'll say: 'Well, we've been very comfortable here. They always do. Don't look too eager." "No fear," put in Hosey Brewster. "It's really lovely. And a real fireplace. Everything new and good. She's asking two hundred and twenty-five. Offer her one seventy-five. She'll take two hundred." "You bet she will," growled Hosea.
"Ain't!" Hosea Brewster was startled into it. "They're artists, aren't they? Most of 'em?" "No! Out-of-town folks, mostly, like you. West Iowa an' Californy an' around there. Livin' here, though. Seem t' like it better'n where they come from. I dunno." Hosey Brewster took to eying them as Mrs. Brewster had eyed the women.
It was one morning in April one soft, golden April morning when this memory had struck Hosey Brewster. He had been down at Fulton Market. Something about the place the dewy fresh vegetables, the crates of eggs, the butter, the cheese had brought such a surge of homesickness over him as to amount to an actual nausea.
Truth blinding, white-hot truth burst in upon him. "Mother," he said and he stood up, suddenly robust, virile, alert "mother, let's go home." Mechanically she began to unpin the looped-back skirt. "When?" "Now." "But, Hosey! Pinky this flat until June " "Now! Unless you want to stay. Unless you like it here in this this make-believe, double-barreled, duplex do-funny of a studio thing.
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