Other Main-Travelled Roads | Page 7

and laughed.
III
At about the time the sun was rising, Farmer Bacon, roused from his
sleep by the crowing of the chickens on the dry knolls in the fields as
well as by those in the barn-yard, rolled out of bed wearily, wondering
why he should feel so drowsy. Then he remembered the row with Lime
and his subsequent inability to sleep with thinking over it. There was a
dull pain in his breast, which made him uncomfortable.
As was his usual custom, he went out into the kitchen and built the fire
for Marietta, filled the tea-kettle with water, and filled the water-bucket
in the sink. Then he went to her bedroom door and knocked with his
knuckles as he had done for years in precisely the same fashion.
Rap--rap--rap. "Hello, Merry! Time t' git up. Broad daylight, an' birds
asingun.'"

Without waiting for an answer he went out to the barn and worked
away at his chores. He took such delight in the glorious morning and
the turbulent life of the farmyard that his heart grew light and he
hummed a tune which sounded like the merry growl of a lion. "Poo-ee,
poo-ee," he called to the pigs as they swarmed across the yard.
"Ahrr! you big, fat rascals, them hams o' yourn is clear money. One of
ye shall go t' buy Merry a new dress," he said as he glanced at the
house and saw the smoke pouring out the stovepipe. "Merry's a good
girl; she's stood by her old pap when other girls 'u'd 'a' gone back on
'im."
While currying horses he went all over the ground of the quarrel
yesterday, and he began to see it in a different light. He began to see
that Lyman was a good man and an able man, and that his own course
was a foolish one.
"When I git mad," he confessed to himself, "I don't know any thin'. But
I won't give her up. She ain't old 'nough t' marry yet--and, besides, I
need her."
After finishing his chores, as usual, he went to the well and washed his
face and hands, then entered the kitchen--to find the tea-kettle boiling
over, and no signs of breakfast anywhere, and no sign of the girl.
"Well, I guess she felt sleepy this mornin'. Poor gal! Mebbe she cried
half the night."
"Merry!" he called gently, at the door.
"Merry, m' gal! Pap needs his breakfast."
There was no reply, and the old man's face stiffened into a wild surprise.
He knocked heavily again and got no reply, and, with a white face and
shaking hand, he flung the door open and gazed at the empty bed. His
hand dropped to his side; his head turned slowly from the bed to the
open window; he rushed forward and looked out on the ground, where
he saw the tracks of a man.

He fell heavily into the chair by the bed, while a deep groan broke from
his stiff and twitching lips.
"She's left me! She's left me!"
For a long half-hour the iron-muscled old man sat there motionless,
hearing not the songs of the hens or the birds far out in the brilliant
sunshine. He had lost sight of his farm, his day's work, and felt no
hunger for food. He did not doubt that her going was final. He felt that
she was gone from him forever. If she ever came back it would not be
as his daughter, but as the wife of Gilman. She had deserted him, fled
in the night like a thief; his heart began to harden again, and he rose
stiffly. His native stubbornness began to assert itself, the first great
shock over, and he went out to the kitchen, and prepared, as best he
could, a breakfast, and sat down to it. In some way his appetite failed
him, and he fell to thinking over his past life, of the death of his wife,
and the early death of his only boy. He was still trying to think what his
life would be in the future without his girl, when two carriages drove
into the yard. It was about the middle of the forenoon, and the
prairie-chickens had ceased to boom and squawk; in fact, that was why
he knew, for he had been sitting two hours at the table. Before he could
rise he heard swift feet and a merry voice and Marietta burst through
the door.
"Hello, Pap! How you makin' out with break--" She saw a look on his
face that went to her heart like a knife. She saw a lonely and deserted
old man sitting at his cold and cheerless breakfast, and with a
remorseful cry she ran across the floor and took him in her arms,