ox of Rocky Mountain salve in my pocket!" exclaimed the tiny Mrs. Evans, lifting her trim, calico skirt, and drawing a tin box from a huge pocket in her stuff petticoat. "Here, let me rub some on. A man certain does need a woman to look after him. Has Sadie sent any word when she'll be back?"
"Sadie! Oh, she'll come when she gets ready," he replied with philosophical indifference.
Mrs. Evans elevated her eyebrows and shook her head two or three times. "Well, course we think the world an' all of Sadie, Jack; but jus' between ourselves, this ain't no way to act. This camp ain't what it was ten years ago. Folks is got to act more formal every day, an' when a wife leaves her man for months at a time an' goes traipsin' over the mountains, they will talk."
Nitschkan was conscious of a dull perplexity, a growing distrust of his own customary and hitherto unquestioned standards. "Oh, that's all right," he answered with a bluff assumption of ease. "Sadie, she's kind o' different. She can't be penn
(1906) Humor / Short Story
From 'McClure's Magazine' Vol. 27, Oct. 1906.
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