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By Root 399 0

has sold a great many typewriters. Honora and he have been to Littleton and to Lebanon and to Cranston. To Pawtucket and to Worcester and to Springfield. They’ve eaten ice-cream cones in the Buick and deviled-ham sandwiches beside lakes. They have played miniature golf and gone to see Mary Pickford in Coquette. They have dined in hotels and gone dancing in roadhouses. They’ve bought roller skates and an icebox and a settee and a radio, and at night, when they are at home, they listen to Lowe’s Orchestra and to The Dinner Hour. Sexton checks the baseball scores and listens for the Motorists’ Bulletin and the racing results. Sometimes Honora feels like one of the legendary bank robbers whose exploits fill the headlines. She and Sexton go into banks. They make quick getaways. They hole up in cabins.

“Business is great,” Sexton says. “I’ve made more money in the last month than I made all of last year. And my line has expanded. I’m doing all business machines now — not just typewriters.”

“Thank you very much, Honora,” she says from the table.

Sexton bows. “Thank you very much, Honora,” he says. He glances around the kitchen. “Just imagine,” he says. “This could be ours one day.”

Honora follows her husband’s eyes. The kitchen has a kind of rudimentary cheer now. She has tacked brightly patterned oilcloth to the shelves and put on rickrack as an edging. The walls have been painted yellow, and she’s made gingham tea towels that complement the oilcloth. The dishes on the shelves, though mismatched, are neat and tidy.

“It feels like ours already,” she says.

She picks up Sexton’s newspaper, intending to fold it and use it for a fan. She glances at the headlines. 204 KILLED BY ENFORCING PROHIBITION, she reads. SOUTHERN COTTON MILL STRIKERS START RIOTS.

Alice Willard

Dear Honora,

I will write you just a quick note before you come. I don’t think it would be a good idea to bring pies. Unless you are coming directly, they would not keep well in this heat. Yesterday, the temperature reached 100 degrees, which as you know is quite a record for Taft. I was in the garden digging out the potatoes and I had to sit down because I felt a spell coming on. Estelle has had the heat stroke, and I never knew how dangerous it was, but she has been laid up all week with strict orders not to go outside. Richard had to buy a fan to keep her cool, and he has been down to the ice house any number of times. If it is too hot, you and Sexton will want to sleep on the porch. I will make up the divan there just in case. It is a narrow bed and not too comfortable, but I think you won’t mind too much. Sleeping upstairs has become very unpleasant. I rigged up that old fan Myra gave us in the attic, and at night we get a bit of a breeze running through the house. This heat can’t last much longer I don’t think and maybe by the time you get here we’ll have had a storm and the heat will have broken.

I have that recipe you wanted out and a few others besides that have been in the family for some time. I used to make your father the Company Chicken and he liked it very much. It will be a change to have people to cook for, even though it is hot. Harold eats hardly anything these days and never seems to want a real meal.

I wish I could tell you to take your time with buying the house, but if Sexton is determined and thinks you and he can afford it, then who am I to tell you different? You have a good head on your shoulders, Honora, and sometimes a wife has to be the voice of reason in a family, though it is always best to do so in such a way that the husband doesn’t feel that he is not the boss. Also you don’t want to be thought of as someone who wears the pants. You know what that’s like from watching Estelle and Richard. The poor man, he is run off his feet sometimes.

I’m glad you’ve decided to stay home more and let Sexton do the traveling. Automobiles have always made me nervous.

It is just too hot to eat. I think I will make up some cucumber sandwiches. Harold doesn’t like them too much, but I feel in the mood for them today.

We might get a radio.