"Poor old Tim! It's a very bad
case."
"Poor old Tim!" said Mary.
She took up her needles and her work, and fell to knitting.
"I suppose they must be very rich--the Parkers, I mean." This was
offered as a wedge to break the silence, for the needles were going
very rapidly now, and the stitches seemed to call for the closest
watching.
"Yes," said Mary.
I lighted my pipe again.
"What a grand man Tim will be when he comes back home." I suggested
this after a long silence. "He'll look fine in his city clothes, for
somehow those city men do dress differently from us country chaps. Now
just picture Tim in a--in a----"
Mary was humming softly to herself.
XI
The county paper always comes on Thursday. This was Thursday. Elmer
Spiker sat behind the stove, in a secluded corner, the light of the
lamp on the counter falling over his left shoulder on the leading
column of locals. Elmer was reading. There was a store rule
forbidding him to read aloud, which caused him much hardship, for as he
worked his way slowly down the column, his right eye and left ear kept
twitching and twitching as though trying to keep time with his lips.
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