He saw the book was called 'Lucile.' And he
looked her over some more--between mouthfuls, of course--the
neat-fitting black dress revealing every line of her lithe young figure,
like these magazine stories say, the starched white apron and the look
of sad dignity that had probably come of fresh drummers trying to teach
her how to take a joke, and the smooth brown hair--he'd probably got
wise to the other kind back in the social centres of Ohio--and all at
once he saw there was something about her. He couldn't tell what it was,
but he knew it was there. He heard one of the over-haired ones call her
Ellabelle, and he committed the name to memory.
"He also remembered the book she was reading. He come back with a copy
he'd bought at Spokane and kept it on his bureau. Not that he read it
much. It was harder to get into than 'Peck's Bad Boy,' which was his
favourite reading just then.
"Pretty soon another load of steers is ready--my sakes, what scrubby
runts we sent off the range in them days compared to now!--and Angus
pleads to go, so Lysander John makes a place for him and, coming back,
here's Ellabelle handing the hot things along same as ever, with
'Lucile' at hand for idle moments.
Pages:
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165