impossible demand.
Mr. Polson continued. “I also want to be sure my daughter and any children she may have will be taken care of. What kind of business are you in, Johnson? Do you have the means to support a family?”
Money, again. Haydn’s heart dropped. Even if it didn’t matter to Gladys, it did to her father. Maybe she felt compelled to marry money.
“I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding, sir.” Haydn used all the skills he had picked up in elocution class at the university. “Gladys is a fine woman, but all that lies between us is a joint interest in making life better for Mr. Keller.”
Mr. Polson frowned. “I had the impression, from what my wife said… More than that, I’ve seen the way Gladys looks when she mentions your name. I’ve never seen her like that, and there have been several young men who’ve come calling.”
The conversation had taken an awkward turn. Haydn offered an olive branch. “I have, however, enjoyed working with Miss Polson to get Mr. Keller involved with the community again. He has shut himself away from people for too long.” He paused, wondering how much he could say without revealing too much. “I don’t know how much your daughter has told you about her last visit. After she left, Mr. Keller expressed regret over his harsh words.” That wasn’t exactly true, but Grandfather hoped for something to develop between Haydn and Gladys. “Please tell her that she is welcome at the house anytime.”
Mr. Polson stood, brushing off his pants, his back straight, as if relieved of a heavy burden. “You may stay and tell her yourself.” His eyes were at peace again. Did the man think Haydn was courting Gladys after all? Wasn’t he listening?
Haydn didn’t want to talk with Gladys privately where she could read the doubt in his eyes. “Mr. Keller is awaiting me. In fact, I told him I expected to return before this. Please tell Mrs. Polson how much I appreciated the wonderful meal.”
When Mr. Polson opened the barn door, only gray light greeted them. “It looks like it’s going to snow,” he said.
The temperature had plummeted, turning the afternoon much colder than the morning. The first flakes of snow fell as Haydn returned home. His mind sped across the contents of their pantry. Even without more of Aunt Kate’s food, they had plenty to last for several days.
At the house, Grandfather was chopping wood. What was he thinking? Haydn hustled down the side path, but Grandfather disappeared before he reached the woodpile. He filled his arms with logs and headed for the house. During the short walk home, the fury of the snowfall had increased. Haydn shivered inside his thick coat.
Grandfather reappeared with a wheelbarrow. “What are you carrying all that wood for? Put it in here with the rest of what I chopped.” He grabbed the top logs from Haydn’s arms and dropped them in the wheelbarrow, glaring at Haydn.
“I’ll get them inside. You go on in before you get cold.” Haydn glared back.
“I’ll have you know I’ve been cutting my own wood since before you were a speck in your father’s eye.” Grandfather’s chin jutted out. He tossed two more logs onto the wheelbarrow before he grabbed his arm in pain. As he doubled over, his breath wheezing, he began coughing. Haydn dropped the wood he was holding into the wheelbarrow and put his arm around Grandfather’s shoulders, helping him into the house.
Chapter 7
O n Tuesday morning Gladys awakened to a white world with a shining blue sky. Snow covered the limbs of trees and the ground, in spite of Pa’s attempts to keep the path to the barn clear.
With the blizzard’s onslaught coming on the heels of Haydn’s Sunday visit, Gladys hadn’t had a moment’s peace to herself to think about her conversation with Pa on Sunday night.
He had evaded Gladys after Haydn left until the children went to bed. In the quiet, she sought him out in his refuge, his study. Standing in front of his desk, she
Mr. Polson continued. “I also want to be sure my daughter and any children she may have will be taken care of. What kind of business are you in, Johnson? Do you have the means to support a family?”
Money, again. Haydn’s heart dropped. Even if it didn’t matter to Gladys, it did to her father. Maybe she felt compelled to marry money.
“I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding, sir.” Haydn used all the skills he had picked up in elocution class at the university. “Gladys is a fine woman, but all that lies between us is a joint interest in making life better for Mr. Keller.”
Mr. Polson frowned. “I had the impression, from what my wife said… More than that, I’ve seen the way Gladys looks when she mentions your name. I’ve never seen her like that, and there have been several young men who’ve come calling.”
The conversation had taken an awkward turn. Haydn offered an olive branch. “I have, however, enjoyed working with Miss Polson to get Mr. Keller involved with the community again. He has shut himself away from people for too long.” He paused, wondering how much he could say without revealing too much. “I don’t know how much your daughter has told you about her last visit. After she left, Mr. Keller expressed regret over his harsh words.” That wasn’t exactly true, but Grandfather hoped for something to develop between Haydn and Gladys. “Please tell her that she is welcome at the house anytime.”
Mr. Polson stood, brushing off his pants, his back straight, as if relieved of a heavy burden. “You may stay and tell her yourself.” His eyes were at peace again. Did the man think Haydn was courting Gladys after all? Wasn’t he listening?
Haydn didn’t want to talk with Gladys privately where she could read the doubt in his eyes. “Mr. Keller is awaiting me. In fact, I told him I expected to return before this. Please tell Mrs. Polson how much I appreciated the wonderful meal.”
When Mr. Polson opened the barn door, only gray light greeted them. “It looks like it’s going to snow,” he said.
The temperature had plummeted, turning the afternoon much colder than the morning. The first flakes of snow fell as Haydn returned home. His mind sped across the contents of their pantry. Even without more of Aunt Kate’s food, they had plenty to last for several days.
At the house, Grandfather was chopping wood. What was he thinking? Haydn hustled down the side path, but Grandfather disappeared before he reached the woodpile. He filled his arms with logs and headed for the house. During the short walk home, the fury of the snowfall had increased. Haydn shivered inside his thick coat.
Grandfather reappeared with a wheelbarrow. “What are you carrying all that wood for? Put it in here with the rest of what I chopped.” He grabbed the top logs from Haydn’s arms and dropped them in the wheelbarrow, glaring at Haydn.
“I’ll get them inside. You go on in before you get cold.” Haydn glared back.
“I’ll have you know I’ve been cutting my own wood since before you were a speck in your father’s eye.” Grandfather’s chin jutted out. He tossed two more logs onto the wheelbarrow before he grabbed his arm in pain. As he doubled over, his breath wheezing, he began coughing. Haydn dropped the wood he was holding into the wheelbarrow and put his arm around Grandfather’s shoulders, helping him into the house.
Chapter 7
O n Tuesday morning Gladys awakened to a white world with a shining blue sky. Snow covered the limbs of trees and the ground, in spite of Pa’s attempts to keep the path to the barn clear.
With the blizzard’s onslaught coming on the heels of Haydn’s Sunday visit, Gladys hadn’t had a moment’s peace to herself to think about her conversation with Pa on Sunday night.
He had evaded Gladys after Haydn left until the children went to bed. In the quiet, she sought him out in his refuge, his study. Standing in front of his desk, she
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