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Updated: June 11, 2025
"Course you was foolish. Everybody's foolish one time out o' three. That's about the only thing there's no patent on." "Well, I s'pose folks do get into trouble doin' things wrong-end-to," said Amarita. She felt as if she were defending Elihu in his censorship. "Why, yes! Nobody says they don't. Let 'em git in an' let 'em git out ag'in. It ain't doin' foolish things or not doin' 'em I complain of.
Amarita was nervous. She knew Elihu liked to be beforehand with his duties. But at last, his roll of plans in hand, he was proceeding down the path, slipping a little, for the thaw had made it treacherous, to the gate where the horse was hitched, and Amarita, at the sitting-room window, watched him. Old Mis' Meade came up behind her, and she too watched. Elihu was uncovering the horse.
"That's what I made it for." Amarita straightened. "Well," said she. Her voice was hard through what might have been an accepted purpose. "You may as well shave you. We'll have supper early." Supper was a silent meal that night. Elihu was pondering on his triumph as a valuable citizen, and what Amarita thought no one could at that moment have foretold.
Mebbe there's a few womenfolks in there enough for pepper 'n' salt if they ain't bound for town meetin'." Elihu drew the long breath which is the due of happily completed toil. He began to roll up his plans. Amarita ran to him and looked over his shoulder. "You got 'em done?" she asked. The red in her cheeks had heightened. Her voice came huskily.
His wife, Amarita by name, stood at the stove, piloting apple turnovers in a pool of fat. At a first glance she and her husband seemed an ill-matched pair, he with a thin face and precise patch of whisker at the ear, a noticeable and general meagreness of build, and she dark and small, with a face flashing vivid intelligence.
She did not eat, but she drank her tea in hasty swallows, and burned her mouth with it. That, the old lady guessed, was why the tears came once or twice into her eyes. Amarita, her mother-in-law judged, had been staying indoors too much through the snowy weather, while Elihu worked on his plans. There had been no sleigh-rides, only the necessary driving to the street.
He spread a sheet of paper on the table, and sat down to it with the air of a schoolboy who is about to square his elbows and perhaps put out a rhythmic tongue. "Where's my two-foot rule?" he inquired of Amarita. "In your t'other trousers," she answered, sewing swiftly, without looking up. Elihu glanced at her in a mild surprise, and his mother chuckled.
If you want one o' them books to read to-night, you step into the front entry an' pick ye out one. I'll stand by ye." Still Amarita made no answer. She was not thinking of the books. Swift as wood-creatures coursing on the track of prey, her mind was racing over the field of her life with Elihu and pinning down the mistakes he had made.
After he had risen and gone off rather helplessly to seek his t'other trousers, Amarita did glance after him with a tentative movement from her chair. It almost seemed as if she repented and meant to go on the quest herself. Old Mis' Meade, translating this, held her breath and waited; but Amarita only sighed and took a needleful of thread.
"You don't think the mice'll git at them pies up in the blue chist, do ye?" inquired old Mis' Meade, fatuous in a desperate seeking to direct the talk. Amarita gave her a passing glance of wonder. "Why, no," she said. "They couldn't get in to save their little souls. You see" she turned again to Elihu "the agent was here this afternoon "
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