to-morruh

Updated: May 17, 2025

The boom of the blasting could be heard up the cañon, fainter as the afternoon sea-breeze arose, and Melissa, standing barefoot in the warm, sandy soil, let the water swirl about her ankles as she mended the basins, and thought of the tall young surveyor who had bound up her wounded arm. "I'm a-goin' to take his hankecher to him to-morruh. Bein' it's Sunday they won't be blastin'."

Margaret Collier Graham - Stories of the Foot-hills