He went away
laughing because I offered to sell my old man--twenty-five cents a
pound. I did notice he don't walk right."
"Yes, I have noticed that; but this notion of a rummage-sale has seemed
to make him better. Now, suppose you let my reins go."
"Oh, Mr. John, don't be in such a hurry. It's surely a responsible place,
this post-office; I don't ever get time for a quiet talk."
"Well, Mrs. Crocker, now is your chance."
"That's real good of you. I was wanting to ask if you ever heard anything
of Peter Lamb. He wrote to his mother he was in the army, and then that
was the end of it. She keeps on writing once a week, and the letters come
back stamped 'not found.' I guess he's wandering somewhere."
"Like enough. I went to see her last week, but I could not give her any
comfort. She couldn't have a worse thing happen than for Peter to come
home."
"Well, Captain John, when you come to have babies of your own, you'll
find mothers are a curious kind of animal."
"Mothers!" laughed John. "I hope there won't be more than one. Now, I
really must go."
"Oh, just one more real bit of news. Lawyer Swallow's wife was here
yesterday with another man to settle up her husband's business."
"Is he dead?"
"They say so, but you can't believe everything you hear.
Pages:
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601