It's a passion. You can't blame her. She's
fixed that way. She'll just nurse that feller in a way that makes him
feel he wants to start right in trundlin' a wooden hoop, or blowin' a
painted trumpet, hanging on to her hand, same as he did before he quit
actin' foolish on his mother's lap. It kind o' seems to me a mortal
wonder women don't set their men-folk actin' queer settin' aside a
railroad track guessin' they're advertisements fer a new hair-wash, or
some other fancy dope. I guess women is the greatest proposition ever
step out o' the Garden of Eden--someways."
Nan laughed happily.
"That's spoiled it, Daddy," she cried. "Why not leave it at the Garden
of Eden?"
Bud laughingly shook his head.
"Why for should I?" he retorted. "If they're angels they ain't all
halo an' wings. Anyway, she did step out o' the Garden. An' though
the committee ast her to vacate, I allow it was a mighty good thing fer
the human race, or we'd all be eatin' grass still, or some other
perfectly ridiculous cattle feed. No siree! She ain't all halo an'
wings, or us men 'ud be settin' around all the time shoutin' hymns
doleful instead of enjoyin' ourselves lyin' awake at nights figgerin'
to beat the other feller's play.
Pages:
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512