Illegitimate children -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Middle West -- Fiction
“Pshaw, the debates ain’t really school. They’re different.... But
look, Ellen, all the lots around here are almost forests of weeds in
the summer. It’s great! You can hide in them, and everything. They get
over six feet high. And there’s woods only a mile out west there, to
swim and camp in. If you have time we can walk there some day.”
Ellen’s face brightened at the prospect.
“But it gets hot here in the summer,” he went on, “awful hot--not like
Winnipeg. You won’t like that.”
“Oh, I’ve lived in N’Orleans. It’s lots hotter there.”
“Yes, that’s so. That’s way down south, ain’t it? I always think of
you coming from Winnipeg. Bennet talks about it all the time. He’s a
Britisher all right.”
Ellen replied warmly.
“Well, he shouldn’t be, even if they were born in Canada. His father
says he’s going to stand by this country now, because it gives them a
good living and always has. He’s going to make them all citizens.”
Potter laughed. He was sitting perched up on the kitchen table, his
small feet dangling beneath it and his cap in his hand.
“I told Bennet we licked England twice and he got hot under the collar.
He’s funny. Did you like it better up north?”
“Yes, I guess I did. We used to have good times in Winnipeg. The
fellows always in the house, my! It’ll be the same here after a while.
Those two girls get a crowd coming pretty quick. Only we’ll never have
snow like in Winnipeg. I did love the snow, such sledding and skating!”
“That’s the ticket!” agreed Potter, and added with some disgust, “We
hardly had one good skate last winter--soon as it’d freeze it’d thaw!
But you should have seen the first winter we were here. Almost two
months of ice! This house wasn’t here then--hardly any in this row
were, and gee, the way the wind used to blow! It changes around here
fast. Kirk broke his arm falling through these joistses.”
Potter swung down from the table and stood in front of the ironing
board, smiling up at the tall woman, his hands in his pockets.
“Say, Ellen, got something to eat? Just anything, you know--I’ll tell
you why I want it.”
Ellen put down her iron on the metal guard and went into the pantry.
She returned with three powdered doughnuts on a plate.
“Here,” she said laughing. “You’re always eating, Potter Osprey. Your
mother told me I was spoiling your appetite for meals.”
“Thanks,” he said and went on between mouthfuls. “I’ve been smoking. I
thought something to eat would take my breath away.”
“Well, if that’s what you came here for you can go right back home. You
oughtn’t smoke--so there!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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