Funny how a feller'll change--an' all
fer a skirt. A skirt that belongs to somebody else now, too.
Hell! what's the difference, anyhow? She'd be glad if she
knew, an' it makes me feel better to act like she'd want. That
old farmer guy, now. Who'd ever have taken him fer havin' a
heart at all? Wen I seen him first I thought he'd like to sic
the dog on me, an' there he comes along an' tells 'Maw' to
pass me a hand-out like this! Gee! it's a funny world. She used
to say that most everybody was decent if you went at 'em
right, an' I guess she knew. She knew most everything, anyway.
Lord, I wish she'd been born on Grand Ave., or I on
Riverside Drive!"
As Billy walked up to his waiting companion, who had
touched a match to the firewood as he sighted the numerous
packages in the forager's arms, he was repeating, over and
over, as though the words held him in the thrall of fascination:
"There ain't no sweet Penelope somewhere that's longing
much for me."
Bridge eyed the packages as Billy deposited them carefully
and one at a time upon the grass beside the fire. The milk was
in a clean little graniteware pail, the eggs had been placed in a
paper bag, while the other articles were wrapped in pieces of
newspaper.
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