At the crossroads Mr. Mullen left her to return
to an afternoon Sunday school, and she was about to stop at the ordinary
to ask William to see her safely over the pasture, when Abel Revercomb,
looking a trifle awkward in his Sunday clothes, came out of the house
and held out his hand for the basket.
"I thought you'd be coming home this way after dinner," he said, turning
his throat when he moved. His hair was brushed flat on his head as
was his habit on Sundays, and he wore a vivid purple tie, which he had
bought on his last journey to Applegate. He had never looked worse, nor
had he ever felt quite so confident of the entire correctness of his
appearance.
As Molly made no reply, but merely fell into step at his side, he
inquired, after a moment's pause, "How did you enjoy the sermon?"
"Oh, I don't like to be preached at, and I'm sorry for Mr. Mullen's wife
if he expects her to ease everybody's pains in the parish. He looked
very handsome in church," she added, "didn't you think so?"
"I didn't notice," he answered ruefully. "I never pay any attention to
the way a man looks, in church or out of it.
Pages:
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179