The life of a small middlewestern town is portrayed by Mr. Hughes with all its vital interests, its comedy, its pathos. He writes the epic of each little existence of rural life with the same sympathy and fidelity he has shown in his stories of metropolitan life. There is humor, human frailty, human strength, and tragedy, and all of it springs from American soil.
amp-post showed him that Ellaphine had been crying. It was the least becoming thing she could have done. Eddie asked whether her mother was so sick as all that. She said "No"--then changed to "Yes"--and then stopped short and began to blubber uncouthly, dabbing her eyes alternately with the backs of her wrists.
Eddie stared awhile, then yielded to an imperious urge to clasp her to his heart and comfort her. She twisted out of his arms, and snapped, "Don't you touch me, Eddie Pouch!"
Eddie mumbled, inanely, "You didn't mind it this mornin', buggy-ridin'."
Her answer completely flabbergasted him:
"No; because you didn't have all that money then."
"Gee whiz, Pheeny!" he gasped. "What you got against Uncle Loren's money? It ain't a disease, is it? It's not ketchin', is it?"
"No," she sobbed; "but we--Well, when you were so poor and all, I thought you might--you might really like me because I could be of some--of some use to you; but now you--you needn't think I'm goin' to