They've got some that match my hair and I
fairly yearn for them. But if I got 'em I dare say I'd put them in a box
and go after wanting something else. It's the same way with Miss Patty.
She'll get her prince, and because it isn't real love, but only the same
as me with the puffs, she'll go after wanting something else. Only she
can't put him away in a box. She'll have to put him on and wear him for
better, for worse."
"Lord help her!" he said solemnly, and went over to the window and stood
there looking out.
I went over beside him. From the window we could see the three rows of
yellow lights that marked the house, and somebody with a lantern was
going down the path toward the stables. Mr. Pierce leaned forward, his
hands at the top of the window-sash, and put his forehead against the
glass.
"Why is it that a lighted window in a snow-storm always makes a fellow
homesick?" he said in his half-mocking way. "If he hasn't got a home it
makes him want one."
"Well, why don't you get one?" I asked.
"On nothing a year?" he said. "Not even prospects! And set up
housekeeping in the shelter-house with my good friend Minnie carrying
us food and wearing herself to a shadow, not to mention bringing trashy
books to my bride."
"She isn't that kind," I broke in, and got red. I'd been thinking of
Miss Patty. But he went over to the table and picked up his glass of
spring water, only to set it down untasted.
"No, she's not that kind!" he agreed, and never noticed the slip.
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