The next few days she moved pallid-faced, watching for the mail car. She
gathered honey, lulling the bees with smoke. She cut the combs into a
galvanized washtub. The soft stuff oozed and mingled, yellow, black, and
amber, in a heavy pool. Some of the comb she let drip free, and laid it
in a tree fork for the bees to use again. She fastened the lids back on
the hives. While she was doing these things, it was as if her bones
might break were her movements too sudden. Then the RFD car was leaving
a letter.
Dear Puss,
This is delightful. You know I have opened my Redding Street house
again on the north side. I’m a married man now, you see. Are you
surprised? Violet and I would be glad to have you and Simon visit
with us until you can get a job. You might learn my wife a few
things about housework! I am sending ten dollars herewith. Come
soon.