Speaking colloquially, the Toomeys were "ga'nted considerably," and in
their usual state of semistarvation, but were in no immediate danger of
freezing, owing to the fact that Toomey had succeeded in exchanging a
mounted deer head for four tons of local coal mined from a "surface
blossom," which was being exploited by the _Grit_ as one of the
country's resources.
Vastly delighted with his bargain, until he discovered that he no sooner
had arrived from the coalhouse with a bucket of coal than it was
necessary for him to make a return trip with a bucket of ashes, Toomey
now hurled anathemas upon the embryo coal baron. It was not empty
verbiage when he asserted that, by spring, at the rate he was wearing a
trench to the ash can, nothing but the top of his head would be visible.
Mrs. Toomey, however, was grateful, for she felt that if there was one
thing worse than being hungry it was being cold, so she stoked the
kitchen range with a free hand and luxuriated in the warmth though it
necessitated frequent trips outside in Toomey's absence.
Mrs. Toomey was returning from the ash can when she saw Mormon Joe
going into his shack on the diagonal corner. She slackened her trot to a
walk and watched while he unlocked the door, as though to read from his
back something of his intentions in regard to the loan Kate had promised
so confidently.
It had seemed too good to be realized, so she had not told Jap of their
meeting. She must not count on it, however--she had been disappointed so
often that she dreaded the feeling. Ugh! What frightful cold! Mrs.
Toomey ran into the house and forgot the incident.
Later in the afternoon Toomey came home in high spirits.
"They got in!" he announced. "I hardly thought they'd start, such
weather. It's twenty-five below now and getting colder."
"Who?" inquired Mrs. Toomey, absently.
"The show people."
"Oh, did they?"
"Might as well take it in, mightn't we?" in feigned indifference.
"How can we? It's a dollar a ticket, isn't it?"
For answer he produced two strips of pink pasteboard from his waistcoat
pocket.
"Jap?" wonderingly.
"Yes'm."
"Where did you get the money?"
"I raised it."
"But how?"
He hesitated, looking sheepish.
"On the range."
Mrs. Toomey sat down weakly.
"The cook stove! You mortgaged it?"
"I had to give some security, hadn't I?" he demanded with asperity.
"Who to?"
"Teeters. I got five dollars."
Mrs. Toomey found it convenient to go into the pantry until she had
regained control of her feelings.
It was twenty-eight degrees below zero when the doors of the Opera House
were opened to permit the citizens of Prouty to hear the World Renowned
Swiss Bell Ringers and Yodlers.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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