I was sorry the minute I had said it and Hartsell didn’t know what to say and for once his wife couldn’t say nothing. Mother tried to smooth things over by making the remark that I must of had something stronger than tea or I wouldn’t talk so silly. But Mrs. Hartsell had froze up like an iceberg and hardly said good night to us and I bet her and Frank put in a pleasant hour after we was gone. As we was leaving, Mother said to him: “Never mind Charley’s nonsense, Frank. He is just mad because you beat him all hollow pitching horseshoes and playing cards.” She said that to make up for my slip, but at the same time she certainly riled me. I tried to keep ahold of myself, but as soon as we was out of the house she had to open up the subject and begun to scold me for the break I had made. Well, I wasn’t in no mood to be scolded. So I said: “I guess he is such a wonderful pitcher and card player that you wished you had married him.” “Well,” she said, “at least he ain’t a baby to give up pitching because his thumb has got a few scratches.” “And how about you,” I said, “making a fool of yourself on the roque court and then pretending your back is lame and you can’t play no more!” “Yes,” she said, “but when you hurt your thumb I didn’t laugh at you, and why did you laugh at me when I sprained my back?” “Who could help from laughing!” I said. “Well,” she said, “Frank Hartsell didn’t laugh.” “Well,” I said, “why didn’t you marry him?” “Well,” said Mother, “I almost wished I had!” “And I wished so, too!” I said. “I’ll remember that!” said Mother, and that’s the last word she said to me for two days. We seen the Hartsells the next day in the Park and I was willing to apologize, but they just nodded to us. And a couple days later we heard they had left for Orlando, where they have got relatives. I wished they had went there in the first place. Mother and I made it up setting on a bench. “Listen, Charley,” she said. “This is our Golden Honeymoon and we don’t want the whole thing spoilt with a silly old quarrel.” “Well,” I said, “did you mean that about wishing you had married Hartsell?” “Of course not,” she said, “that is, if you didn’t mean that you wished I had, too.” So I said: “I was just tired and all wrought up. I thank God you chose me instead of him as they’s no other woman in the world who I could of lived with all these years.” “How about Mrs. Hartsell?” says Mother. “Good gracious!” I said. “Imagine being married to a woman that plays five hundred like she does and drops her teeth on the roque court!” “Well,” said Mother, “it wouldn’t be no worse than being married to a man that expectorates towards ladies and is such a fool in a checker game.” So I put my arm around her shoulder and she stroked my hand and I guess we got kind of spooney.