City and town life -- Fiction; Short stories, American
"Mr. Loneway an' I was sittin' in the kitchen while the doctor was in
the other room with her. I went there evenin's all the time by then--the
young fellow seemed to like to hev me. We was keepin' warm over the
oil-stove because the real stove was in her room, an' the doctor come in
an' stood over him.
"'My lad,' he says gentle, 'there ain't half as much use o' my comin'
here as there is o' her gettin' strengthenin' food. She's got to hev
beef broth--cer'als--fresh this an' fresh that'--he went on to tell him,
'an' plenty of it,' he says. 'An' if we can make her strength hold out,
I think,' he wound up, 'that we can save her. But she's gettin' weaker
every day for lack o' food. Can you do anything more?' he ask' him.
"I expected to see young Mr. Loneway go all to pieces at this, because I
knew as it was he didn't ride in the street-car, he was pinchin' so to
pay the doctor. But he sorter set up sudden an' squared his shoulders,
an' he looked up an' says:--
"'Yes!' he says. 'I've been thinkin' that to-night,' he says. 'An' I've
hed a way to some good luck, you might call it--an' now I guess she can
hev everything she wants,' he told him; an' he laughed some when he said
it.
"That sort o' amazed me. I hadn't heard him sayin' anything about any
excruciatin' luck, an' his face hadn't been the face of a man on the
brink of a bonanza. I wondered why he hadn't told her about this luck o'
his, but I kep' quiet an' watched to see if he was bluffin'.
"I was cleanin' the walk off when he come home nex' night. Sure enough,
there was his arms laid full o' bundles. An' his face--it done me good
to see it.
"'Come on up an' help get dinner,' he yelled out, like a kid, an' I
thought I actually seen him smilin'.
"Soon's I could I went upstairs, an' they wa'n't nothin' that man hadn't
brought. They was everything the doctor had said, an' green things, an'
a whol' basket o' fruit an' two bottles o' port, an' more things
besides. They was lots o' fixin's, too, that there wa'n't a mite o'
nourishment in--for he wa'n't no more practical _nor_ medicinal'n a
wood-tick. But I knew how he felt.
"'Don't tell her,' he says. 'Don't tell her,' he says to me, hoppin'
'round the kitchen like a buzz-saw. 'I want to surprise her.'
"You can bet he did, too--if you'll overlook the liberty. When he was
all ready, he made me go in ahead.
"'_To-ot!_' says I, genial-like--they treated me jus' like one of 'em.
'_To-ot!_ Lookey-_at_!'
"He set the big white platter down on the bed, an' when she see all the
stuff,--white grapes, mind you, an' fresh tomatoes, an' a glass for the
wine,--she just grabs his hand an' holds it up to her throat, an'
says:--
"'Jack! Oh, Jack!' she says,--she called him that when she was
pleased,--'how did you? _How did you?_'
"'Never you mind,' he says, kissin' her an' lookin' as though he was
goin' to bu'st out himself, 'never you ask. It's time I had some luck,
ain't it? Like other men?'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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