My grandfather once prayed for a solid two
months before he got rain, and then, by gosh, he had to pray for
nearly three weeks to get it to quit."
Supper over, the young man had reminded his venerable angling
companion of his promise to relate the history of Quill's Window.
Old Caleb Brown was the father of Mrs. Vick,--Lucinda Vick, wife
of the farmer in whose house the young man was spending a month as
a boarder.
The group on the porch included Amos Vick, anxious, preoccupied,
and interested only in the prospect of rain; his daughter Rosabel,
aged eighteen, a very pretty and vivacious girl, interested only
in the young man from the far-off, mysterious city in the East; his
son Caleb, a rugged youth of nineteen; Mrs. Vick, and a neighbour
named White, who had come over for the sole purpose of finding out
just what Amos Vick thought about the weather. Two dogs lay panting
on the dry grass at the foot of the steps.
"Oh, she's living over there in the Windom house," said Mrs. Vick.
"Sort of running the place," explained Mr. Brown, a trace of irony
in his voice.
"Well," put in Amos Vick, speaking for the first time in many minutes,
"she's got a lot of sense, that girl has. She may be letting on
that she's running the farm, but she ain't, you bet. That's where
she's smart. She's got sense enough to know she don't know anything
about running a farm, and while she puts on a lot of airs and acts
kind of important like, the real truth is she leaves everything to
old Jim Bagley.
Pages:
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55