Of Time and the River Read Online Free PDF

tell me if I’m right.”
    “Ah-hah-hah!” said Robert respectfully. “Yes, Ma’am.”
    “You were born,” she went on slowly and deliberately, “on September 2nd, 1898, and you are just two years and one month and one day older than this boy here—” she nodded to her own son. “Now you can tell me if I’m right or wrong.”
    “Ah-hah-hah!” said Robert. “Yes, Ma’am. . . . That’s right. . . . You’re absolutely right,” he cried, and then in an astounded and admiring tone, he said: “Well, I’ll declare. . . . If that don’t beat all! . . . How on earth did you ever remember it!” he cried in an astonished tone that obviously was very gratifying to her vanity.
    “Well, now, I’ll tell you,” she said with a little complacent smile—“I’ll tell you how I KNOW. . . . I remember the day you were born, boy—because it was on that very day that one of my own children—my son, Luke—was allowed to get up out of bed after havin’ typhoid fever. . . . That very day, sir, when Mr. Gant came home to dinner, he said—‘Well, I was just talking to Robert Weaver on the street and everything’s all right. His wife gave birth to a baby boy this morning and he says she’s out of danger.’ And I know I said to him, ‘Well, then, it’s been a lucky day for both of us. McGuire was here this morning and he said Luke is now well enough to be up and about. He’s out of danger.’—And I reckon,” she went on quietly, “that’s why the date made such an impression on me—of course, Luke had been awfully sick,” she said gravely, and shook her head, “we thought he was goin’ to die more than once—so when the doctor came and told me he was out of danger—well, it was a day of rejoicin’ for me, sure enough. But that’s how I know— September 2nd, 1898—that’s when it was, all right, the very day when you were born.”
    “Ah-hah-hah!” said Robert. “That is certainly right. . . . Well, if that don’t beat all!” he cried with his astounded and engaging air of surprise. “The most remarkable thing I ever heard of!” he said solemnly.
    “So the next time you see your father,” the woman said, with the tranquil satisfaction of omniscience, “you tell him that you met Eliza Pentland—he’ll know who I am, boy—I can assure you—for we were born and brought up within five miles from each other and you can tell him that she knew you right away, and even told you to the hour and minute the day when you were born! . . . You tell him that,” she said.
    “Yes, Ma’am!” said Robert respectfully, “I certainly will! . . . I’ll tell him! . . . That is certainly a remarkable thing. . . . Ah-hah-hah! . . . Beats all I ever heard of! . . . Ah-hah-hah,” he kept bowing and smiling to the young woman and her husband, and muttering “ah-hah-hah! . . . Pleased to have met you. . . . Got to go now: some one over here I’ve got to see . . . but I’ll certainly tell him . . . ah-hah-hah. . . . Gene, I’ll see you on the train. . . . Good-bye. . . . Good-bye. . . . Glad to have met you all. . . . Ah-hah-hah. . . . Certainly a remarkable thing. . . . Good-bye!” and turning abruptly, he left them, walking rapidly along at his stiff, prim, curiously lunging stride.
    The younger woman looked after the boy’s tall form as he departed, stroking her chin in a reflective and abstracted manner:
    “So that’s Judge Robert Weaver’s son, is it? . . . Well,” she went on, nodding her head vigorously in a movement of affirmation. “He’s all right. . . . He’s got good manners. . . . He looks and acts like a gentleman. . . . You can see he’s had a good bringing up. . . . I like him!” she declared positively again.
    “Why, yes,” said the mother, who had been following the tall retreating form with a reflective look, her hands loose-folded at her waist—“Why, yes,” she continued, nodding her head in a thoughtful and conceding manner that was a little comical in its