She fell in
love with him while he was treating her for typhoid, when his back was
turned as it were, and it was God's own kindness in him that made him
marry her when he found out how it was with the poor thing. There's not
a woman in this town who could marry, that wouldn't marry him at the
drop of his hat--but, thank goodness, that hat will never drop and I'll
have one sensible man to comfort and doctor me down into my old age.
Now, just look at that! Mr. Johnson's come home here in the middle of
the morning and I'll have to get that old paper I hunted out of his desk
for him last night. I wonder how he came to forget it!" It's funny how
Mrs. Johnson always knows what Mr. Johnson wants before he knows himself
and gets it before he asks for it!
As she went out the gate the postman came in and at the sight of another
letter my heart again slunk off into my slippers, and my brain seemed
about to back up in a corner and refuse to work. In a flash it came to
me that men oughtn't to write letters to women very much--they really
don't plow deep enough, they just irritate the top soil. I took this
missive from Alfred, counted all the fifteen pages, put it out of sight
under a book, looked out the window and saw the ginger barber coming
dejectedly around to the side gate from the kitchen--I knew the scene he
had had with Judy, about the bottle encounters of the night before--saw
Mr.
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