She don't belong in no jim-crow town like this. Doggone, Eva, I
hate to see 'er go!"
There was such a wail of bitterness in the old constable's remark that
Mrs. Crow felt the tears start to her own eyes. It was the girl they
both wanted, after all--not the money. Rosalie, coming home with her
party some time afterward, found the old couple still seated on the
porch. The young people could not conceal their surprise.
"Counting the stars, pop?" asked Edna Crow.
"He's waiting for the eclipse," bawled noisy Ed Higgins, the grocer's
clerk. "It's due next winter. H'are you, Anderson?"
"How's that?" was Anderson's rebuke.
"I mean Mr. Crow," corrected Ed, with a nervous glance at Rosalie, who
had been his companion for the evening.
"Oh, I'm jest so-so," remarked Anderson, mollified. "How was the party?"
"It wasn't a party, Daddy Crow," laughed Rosalie, seating herself in
front of him on the porch rail. "It was an experience meeting. Alf
Reesling has reformed again. He told us all about his last attack of
delirium tremens."
"You don't say so! Well, sir, I never thought Alf could find the time to
reform ag'in. He's too busy gittin' tight," mused Anderson. "But I guess
reformin' c'n git to be as much a habit as anythin' else."
"I think he was a little woozy to-night," ventured 'Rast Little.
"A little what?"
"Drunk," explained 'Rast, without wasting words.
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