Suddenly Jennie's cheek flushed as she came out on the porch.
Carl was coming up the path. The young Swede was bareheaded, the
short blond curls glistening in the light; his throat was bare
too, so that one could see the big muscles in his neck. Jennie
always liked him with his throat bare; it reminded her of a hero
she had once seen in a play, who stormed a fort and rescued all
the starving women.
"Da brown horse seek; batta come to stabble an' see him," Carl
said, going direct to the porch, where he stood in front of Tom,
resting one hand on his hip, his eyes never wandering from her
face. He knew where Jennie was, but he never looked.
"What's the matter with him?" asked Tom, her thoughts far away at
the moment.
"I don' know; he no eat da oats en da box."
"Will he drink?" said Tom, awakening to the importance of the
information.
"Yas; 'mos' two buckets."
"It's fever he's got," she said, turning to Pop. "I thought that
yisterday noon when I sees him a-workin'. All right, Carl; I'll
be down before I go to the board meetin'. And see here, Carl;
ye'd better git ready to go wid me. I'll start in a couple o'
hours. Will it suit ye, Gran'pop, if Carl goes with me?"--patting
her father's shoulder. "If ye keep on a-worritin' I'll hev to
hire a cop to follow me round.
Pages:
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145