Main Street eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 650 pages of information about Main Street.
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Main Street eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 650 pages of information about Main Street.

He kissed her, rambled off, nodded to Jim Howland, stopped indifferently to speak to Mrs. Terry Gould.  But his heart was racing, his stomach was constricted.  He walked more slowly.  He reached Dave Dyer’s yard.  He glanced in.  On the porch, sheltered by a wild-grape vine, was the figure of a woman in white.  He heard the swing-couch creak as she sat up abruptly, peered, then leaned back and pretended to relax.

“Be nice to have some cool beer.  Just drop in for a second,” he insisted, as he opened the Dyer gate.

II

Mrs. Bogart was calling upon Carol, protected by Aunt Bessie Smail.

“Have you heard about this awful woman that’s supposed to have come here to do dressmaking—­a Mrs. Swiftwaite—­awful peroxide blonde?” moaned Mrs. Bogart.  “They say there’s some of the awfullest goings-on at her house—­mere boys and old gray-headed rips sneaking in there evenings and drinking licker and every kind of goings-on.  We women can’t never realize the carnal thoughts in the hearts of men.  I tell you, even though I been acquainted with Will Kennicott almost since he was a mere boy, seems like, I wouldn’t trust even him!  Who knows what designin’ women might tempt him!  Especially a doctor, with women rushin’ in to see him at his office and all!  You know I never hint around, but haven’t you felt that——­”

Carol was furious.  “I don’t pretend that Will has no faults.  But one thing I do know:  He’s as simple-hearted about what you call ‘goings-on’ as a babe.  And if he ever were such a sad dog as to look at another woman, I certainly hope he’d have spirit enough to do the tempting, and not be coaxed into it, as in your depressing picture!”

“Why, what a wicked thing to say, Carrie!” from Aunt Bessie.

“No, I mean it!  Oh, of course, I don’t mean it!  But——­I know every thought in his head so well that he couldn’t hide anything even if he wanted to.  Now this morning——­He was out late, last night; he had to go see Mrs. Perry, who is ailing, and then fix a man’s hand, and this morning he was so quiet and thoughtful at breakfast and——­” She leaned forward, breathed dramatically to the two perched harpies, “What do you suppose he was thinking of?”

“What?” trembled Mrs. Bogart.

“Whether the grass needs cutting, probably!  There, there!  Don’t mind my naughtiness.  I have some fresh-made raisin cookies for you.”

CHAPTER XXVI

Carol’s liveliest interest was in her walks with the baby.  Hugh wanted to know what the box-elder tree said, and what the Ford garage said, and what the big cloud said, and she told him, with a feeling that she was not in the least making up stories, but discovering the souls of things.  They had an especial fondness for the hitching-post in front of the mill.  It was a brown post, stout and agreeable; the smooth leg of it held the sunlight, while its

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Main Street from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.