The Long Ride Read Online Free PDF Page B

That’s the sailor’s way.’ W. Allingham. I’ve just decided to go ahead and do it! I haven’t done anything so headstrong since four summers ago when I decided to lead our Robins—that’s our teen-age girls’ group—on a hike clear across the state and back!” Miss Kennicot tipped her head back and roared. “Well, I’m just girlishly foolish, I guess.” Miss Kennicot lowered her head, grinning with large teeth, and gazed straight at John Benson until he felt vaguely nervous. “Well, my goodness!” she said finally. “I’ve got to run. ‘A sorry breaking-up!’ T. Moore. Tuesday morning then? I know it’ll be simply loads!” Roaring, she allowed Mrs. Landry to escort her to the door.
    John Benson looked across the room at Margaret Moore. They met each other’s eyes for a moment, then both of them laughed softly. Mrs. Landry reappeared.
    “Miss Kennicot,” she said. “She’s so smart and so healthy-looking. Don’t you agree?”
    Mrs. Moore nodded and John Benson said, “Indeed.”
    “Well, then,” Mrs. Landry said. “Where was I? Oh, yes. I was saying it’s all settled now. You two. Miss Kennicot. And then I have the sweetest young couple—just married!” Mrs. Landry laughed gaily. “Makes us all feel a little younger. That’s the Garwiths. The girl is so sweet and shy, just the way a bride ought to be. The boy—Allan, that’s his name—lost an arm somehow, poor boy, but he seems to do awfully well anyway.”
    John Benson nodded, glancing at Mrs. Moore, who was studying him casually with a faint smile.
    “Well, then. And that’s all, I think. Oh, no. Mr. Wells! He’s the retired Army man. Very soft-spoken and dignified and not very old. And he’s so very neat! Yes, with Mr. Wells, that’ll be all. And I’ll have my station wagon looked over so they can do whatever they’re supposed to do when you leave for a long trip. My goodness, isn’t this going to be fun? Friday morning, eight o’clock, and away we go! How could I be so lucky as to have such a wonderful group of people with me! And my daughter was so worried! Imagine!”
     
    John Benson and Margaret Moore left together. A bus was just approaching the corner down the block, where Miss Kennicot was still waiting.
    “Shall we run and catch it?” Mrs. Moore said. “They’re about ten minutes apart out here.”
    “Well,” John Benson said, “I don’t know. What do you think?”
    They both strolled very slowly, as the bus hissed to a stop. Miss Kennicot, her back to them, snapped shut her book of Shelley poems.
    “I don’t know,” Mrs. Moore said, smiling. “We could make it if we run.”
    The bus door opened. Miss Kennicot stepped in, reminding John Benson of a large colt boarding.
    “I just can’t make up my mind,” he said.
    “Too late,” Mrs. Moore said. The bus roared off. She laughed her husky, full laugh. It made John Benson feel more alive than he’d felt in many long months.
    As they waited on the corner, he said, “Well, now I’ve explained why I’m going west. How about you? Tired of Loma City?”
    “I don’t think I thought very much about it,” she said. “I haven’t been here long. I’ve moved around quite a bit. One job, then another. I’m a natural wanderer, I guess. Compulsive. Never satisfied. Not for long anyway.”
    “You mean you just arbitrarily came to Loma City? Why?”
    “Well, I’d been living in New York, working in a rather good clothing shop, as a saleswoman. It started out being enjoyable. A small, pleasant group of friends. The city to prowl and enjoy. Then one day everything seemed shallow, brittle, so I left. I’d lived for a time in the midwest before. From New York, this part of the country seemed more solid, closer to the earth, so to speak. So I picked out Loma City. It was fine, for a while. Then—” She motioned a hand. “I don’t know. Restless again. I had a job in a real estate office here. I just told them I was leaving. I read Mrs. Landry’s ad in the