I want a seat in the front row."
Poor Jed looked aghast at the very idea. His friend laughed
derisively and walked off and left him. And the days passed and
the "trial month" drew closer and closer to its end until one
morning he awoke to realize that that end had come; the month was
up that very day.
He had not mentioned the subject to the widow, nor had she to him.
His reasons for not speaking were obvious enough; one was that he
did not know what to say, and the other that he was afraid to say
it. But, as the time approached when the decision must be made, he
had expected that she would speak. And she had not. He saw her
daily, sometimes several times a day. She often came into the shop
to find Barbara, who made the workroom a playhouse on rainy or
cloudy days, and she talked with him on other topics, but she did
not mention this one.
It was raining on this particular day, the last day in the "trial
month," and Jed, working at his lathe, momentarily expected Barbara
to appear, with Petunia under one arm and a bundle of dolls'
clothes under the other, to announce casually that, as it was such
bad weather, they had run in to keep him, Mr. Winslow, from getting
lonesome. There was precious little opportunity to be lonesome
where Babbie was.
But this morning the child did not come and Jed, wondering what the
reason for her absence might be, began to feel vaguely
uncomfortable.
Pages:
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136