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Updated: May 19, 2025
This was the busiest season of the year with Christopher, and so engrossed was he in his work that for a week at the end of the month he did not go down for the county news at Tom Spade's store. Fletcher was at home, he knew, but he had heard nothing of Will, and it was through the storekeeper at last that he learned definitely of the boy's withdrawal from the university.
"At first I started there, but that must have been hours ago, and it was so dark I got lost by the ice-pond. After all, it would only make matters worse if I saw Will again; so the question is, Where am I to sleep?" "At Tom Spade's, then or " he hesitated an instant, "if you care to come to us, my sister will gladly find room for you." She shook her head.
"Wait a minte," he cried, "I'm nearly down to the fire oh, oh, I can feel it on my hand I b'leeve my spade's aginning to melt." But Pauline insisted on his instant attendance within doors. "'Once upon a time'," she began, "'there was a beautiful mother'." "As beautiful as ours?" asked Lynn. "Beautifuller," said Pauline. Lynn argued the point hotly, with Muffie to back her.
"Oh, I warn't aimin' at you, Susan," Tom hastened to assure her, aware from experience that he entered an argument only to be worsted. "You've been a good wife to me, for all yo' sharp tongue, an' I've never had to git up an' light the fire sence the day I married you. Yes, you've been a first-rate wife to me, an' no mistake." "I'm the last person you need tell that to," was Mrs. Spade's retort.
Maria flinched at his speech; and then as the clear pink spread evenly in her cheeks, she spoke in her composed tones. "I may as well tell you, grandpa, that we shall marry almost immediately," she said. Not until September, when he lounged one day with a glass of beer in the little room behind Tom Spade's country store, did Christopher hear the news of Maria's approaching marriage.
"I understand, child, thank God," he said softly. An hour later Christopher was at work in the stable, when he heard a careless whistle outside, and Will Fletcher looked in at the open door. "I say, Chris, take a turn off and come down to Tom Spade's," he urged.
Christopher wheeled suddenly about and gave him a keen glance from under his lowered eyelids. For the first time he detected a lack of deference in Tom Spade's tone, and a suspicion shot through him that the words were meant to veil a reprimand. "Well, I reckon the boy's got as good a right to drink as I have," he retorted sneeringly, and a moment afterward went gaily whistling through the store.
Some of the patches a horse with a plough attached could not turn in, yet they were tilled; there was not a spade's breadth left in any corner. And they paid high rent for this ground, rocks and all. They fell behind in famine time not so very far and humbly grateful were they for the help that came from outside in that time, and a mercy that forgave a little of the rent.
Years ago he had escaped these periods by strong physical exertion, working sometimes in the fields until he dropped upon the earth and lay like a log for hours. Later, he had yielded to drink when the darkness closed over him, and upon several occasions he had sat all night with a bottle of whisky in Tom Spade's store.
"We couldn't go far, of course, and we'd have to borrow Tom Spade's hounds mine are tired out but we might have a short run about midnight, get a 'possum or so, and be in our beds before daybreak. Shall we try it?" The boy wavered, struggling between his desire for the chase and his fear of Fletcher. "Of course, if you're afraid " added Christopher slowly.
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