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And that's not all, either. There's no captain on this side of New York who's goin' to buck against the whole Tammany machine an' poke into this Penfield business. If that young man with the butterfly necktie over on Centre street thinks he can keep us movin', he's got to do a heap less talkin' and a heap more convictin' before he can put our lights out!
After settin' and talkin' it over back and forth, we concluded the very best thing we could do wuz to give a big fair and try to sell things enough to raise some money.
"Get aboard here, you hayseed, if you're goin' to ride with me!" he yelled. Dave was sitting on the platform whittling a stick. His back was comfortably resting against a truck. Apparently he had not heard. The conductor strode up to him and looked down at the lank boy. "Say, are you comin' or ain't you?" he shouted, as though he had been fifty yards away instead of four feet. "Talkin' to me?"
"W-what do you mean?" There was an anxious note in the old man's voice. "Well, she's been wanderin' round there fer some time now, talkin' to herself strange like, an' singin'. She gives me the shivers, that's what she does. It ain't nat'ral fer Jean to be actin' that way. Ye'd better come an' see fer yerself." Silently the two men followed Empty across the field, and up the side of a hill.
"HE is no account; he's only the laundryman from Rocky Canyon. I'm talkin' of the coolie gang." But here the conversation flagged, and the air growing keener, the flaps of the leather side curtains were battened down. Masterton gave himself up to conflicting reflections.
Here I've been cuttin' these ornery palo verdes until my hands are like a Gila monster's back, and now look at them cows eat giant cactus! There's no use talkin', Rufe, the feller that wears the number five hat and the number forty jumper ain't worth hell-room when you're around here, gimme that axe!"
The neighbors'll talk how you're so close with your own child after she worked fur you so good still. I don't like it so well, pop, havin' the neighbors talk." "Leave 'em talk. Their talkin' don't cost ME nothin'. I AIN'T furnishin'!" His tone was obstinate and angry.
Bobby continued in an excited whisper, "That there's Jake Vodell we've heard Dad an' the men talkin' so much about. He's the guy what's a-goin' to put the fear of God into the Mill bosses and rich folks. He's a-goin' to take away old Adam Ward's money an' Mill, an' autermobiles, an' house an' everything, an' divide 'em all up 'mong us poor workin' folks. Gee, but he's a big gun, I'm tellin' yer!"
"How dare you, Madam!" The preacher drew himself up, mighty dignified. "How dare you address me in this fashion!" "I'm addressin' you for your good," answered Sally. "We've been talkin' over your sermon, me and my friends here all very respectable women and we've made up our minds that it won't do.
I was thinkin' of Jabez an' myself that mornin', an' wonderin' if age cut so much figger after all. "Do you an' your dad ever talk about your mother any more?" I asked her. "Not much," she said. "When one wants to know all, and one don't want to tell any, the' ain't much satisfaction in talkin' about about even your own mother. Don't you still miss your mother?"
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