For once she lost her hard little
worldly screwed-up expression and was wreathed in smiles of genuine
eagerness:
"Oh _Boy_!" she exclaimed delightedly, dancing around the room, "Now we
can have a victrola, an' a player-piano, and Dan'll get a Ford, one o'
those limousine-kind! Won't I be some swell? What'll the girls at the
store think now?"
"H'm! You'd much better get a washing machine and a 'lectric iron!"
grumbled Grandmother Brady practically.
"Well, all I got to say about it is, she was an awful fool to trust _you_
with so much money," said Lizzie's mother discontentedly, albeit with a
pleased pride as she watched her giddy daughter fling on hat and coat to
go down and tell Dan.
"I sh'll work in the store fer the rest of the week, jest to 'commodate
'em," she announced putting her head back in the door as she went out,
"but not a day longer. I got a lot t'do. Say, won't I be some lady in the
five-an'-ten the rest o' the week? Oh _Boy! I'll tell the world!_"
Meantime in their own private car the bride and groom were whirled on
their way to the west, but they saw little of the scenery, being engaged
in the all-absorbing story of each other's lives since they had parted.
And one bright morning, they stepped down from the train at Malta and
gazed about them.
The sun was shining clear and wonderful, and the little brown station
stood drearily against the brightness of the day like a picture that has
long hung on the wall of one's memory and is suddenly brought out and the
dust wiped away.
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