Grandparent and child -- Fiction; Spanish Americans -- Fiction
“Oh!” innocently. “Don't you?”
“No, of course I don't. Why should I?”
“Aren't you working here?”
“Here? Work HERE? ME? Well, I--should--say--NOT!”
“Oh, excuse me. I thought you must be a new bookkeeper, or--or a new
partner, or something.”
Albert regarded her intently and suspiciously for some seconds before
making another remark. She was as demurely grave as ever, but his
suspicions were again aroused. However, she WAS pretty, there could be
no doubt about that.
“Maybe I can find the hook for you,” he said. “I can try, anyway.”
“Oh, thank you ever so much,” gratefully. “It's VERY kind of you to take
so much trouble.”
“Oh,” airily, “that's all right. Come on; perhaps we can find it
together.”
They were still looking when Mr. Price came panting in.
“Whew!” he observed, with emphasis. “If anybody tells you heavin'
bundles of laths aboard a truck-wagon ain't hard work you tell him for
me he's a liar, will ye. Whew! And I had to do the heft of everything,
'cause Cahoon sent that one-armed nephew of his to drive the team. A
healthy lot of good a one-armed man is to help heave lumber! I says to
him, says I: 'What in time did--' Eh? Why, hello, Helen! Good mornin'.
Land sakes! you're out airly, ain't ye?”
The young lady nodded. “Good morning, Issachar,” she said. “Yes, I am
pretty early and I'm in a dreadful hurry. The wind blew our kitchen door
back against the house last night and broke the hook. I promised Father
I would run over here and get him a new one and bring it back to him
before I went to school. And it's quarter to nine now.”
“Land sakes, so 'tis! Ain't--er--er--what's-his-name--Albert here, found
it for you yet? He ain't no kind of a hand to find things, is he? We'll
have to larn him better'n that. Yes indeed!”
Albert laughed, sarcastically. He was about to make a satisfyingly
crushing reproof to this piece of impertinence when Mr. Price began to
sniff the air.
“What in tunket?” he demanded. “Sn'f! Sn'f! Who's been smokin' in here?
And cigarettes, too, by crimus! Sn'f! Sn'f! Yes, sir, cigarettes, by
crimustee! Who's been smokin' cigarettes in here? If Cap'n Lote knew
anybody'd smoked a cigarette in here I don't know's he wouldn't kill
'em. Who done it?”
Albert shivered. The girl with the dark blue eyes flashed a quick glance
at him. “I think perhaps someone went by the window when it was open
just now,” she suggested. “Perhaps they were smoking and the smoke blew
in.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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