Bailey blinked and showed
unmistakable signs of emotion.
"Nothing, Pete. I reckon your coming back so sudden and all you been
through, and that letter, kind of upset me. D-does she powder her face,
Pete?"
"Who? You mean Miss Gray? Why, what would she do that for?"
"Does she wear clothes that--that cost lots of money?"
"Great snakes, Ma! I dunno. I never seen her except in the hospital,
dressed jest like all the nurses."
"Is--is she handsome?"
"Say, Ma, you let me hold them blankets. They're gittin' you all sagged
down. Why, she ain't what I'd say was _handsome_, but she sure got
pretty eyes and hair--and complexion--and the smoothest little hands--and
she's built right neat. She steps easy--like a thoroughbred filly--and
she's plumb sensible, jest like you folks."
This latter assurance did not seem to comfort Ma Bailey as much as the
implied compliment might intimate.
"And there's only one other woman I ever saw that made me feel right to
home and kind o' glad to have her round, like her. And she's got gray
eyes and the same kind of hair, and--"
"Sakes alive, Pete Annersley! Another?"
"Uh-huh.
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