Place Called Estherville Read Online Free PDF Page B

anybody,” George told him. “Nobody ought to be out on a night like this. You’re liable to catch a cold going around like this.”
    “It’s not so bad out. Just a little drizzly and misty. That’s all. Damp weather’s good for your hair. Look what water does for a muskrat’s fur.”
    “What do you want?” George said impatiently.
    “Well, I just stopped by to ask if you’d—” He looked down at George’s feet. “What’s the matter with you, George? Do your feet hurt that bad? Can’t you stand still?”
    “No, they don’t hurt. They feel good tonight.”
    “I never saw anybody dance up and down like you’re doing.”
    “What did you stop here for?”
    “Well, I stopped to ask if you’d like to come up to my house after supper tonight and maybe play a little poker. My wife’s brother came to town for the weekend, and I thought—”
    “No,” George told him abruptly.
    “Why not?”
    “Well, I’m busy.”
    “Busy doing what?”
    “I don’t know—but I can’t come, anyway.”
    “You don’t have to go back to the bank and count money tonight, do you?”
    “No!” he said emphatically.
    “George, you can sit around in your sock-feet in my house. My wife won’t make a fuss. She’ll be decent about it. You know that.”
    “Can’t do it,” George told him, moving back into the hall and partly closing the door.
    “You’re acting mighty funny, George,” Hugh said with a puzzled look. “What’s bothering you, anyhow?”
    “I’m all right. Just leave me alone.”
    “Won’t Norma let you come?”
    “She’s gone to Savannah.”
    “She has?” Hugh said with a slowly rising inflection. His eyes opened wide. “I see,” he said, backing toward the steps. “I didn’t know that. Sorry I busted in like this. Well, be careful, George. Better watch your reflex actions.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    Hugh gave him a knowing wink. “That good-looking high-yellow maid, George. I’ve heard about her. They say she’s the best-looking mulatto girl in the county, and I’ve seen some beauts around here.” He backed down the steps. “Good night, George,” he called back as he turned and walked toward the street. “If you need any advice, just send for me.”
    “Good night,” George muttered gruffly, slamming the door and locking it securely.
    He waited in the hall until he heard Hugh slam the car door and drive away. Then he walked back as far as the living room. There was complete silence in the house. It was then that he was gripped by the fear that Kathyanne had overheard the conversation at the door and, becoming suspicious, had left supper uncooked and gone home. He hurried down the hall, padding noiselessly in his sock-feet, and went to the kitchen door. This time Kathyanne was sitting at the table calmly turning the pages of a magazine. She did not appear to be at all uneasy.
    “Kathyanne,” he called to her hoarsely. He was relieved to see her sitting there so placidly, but by that time he was completely unnerved. He remembered his resolution to keep from foolishly blundering again and he wished he had the sense to think of what he was going to say before returning to the kitchen. He wished he had the ability to talk to her with the same cool judgment he had in the bank when he was able to reject a loan application, by a doubtful risk, without the slightest trace of a quaver. The longer he stood there, however, the more confused his mind became, and in desperation he finally grasped at the thought of finding some excuse to get her to the living room.
    “Yes, Mr. George?” she said with a disconcertingly placid expression.
    For once in his life he felt as utterly worldly and rake-helly as the Baptist minister said all men were. He told himself that after this he would probably be able to appreciate the sermons more. It had always been a mystery to him where the Baptist minister got his ideas for sermons.
    “Kathyanne, come up to the living room for a minute.”
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