I was hopin’ that, in honor of his weddin’, Harry’d take at least a month off. But no; he was back amongst us in five days.
“Hello, there!” I says, shakin’ hands with him. “You didn’t take much of a trip.”
“The little girl got homesick,” says he.
“What little girl?” I says.
“My wife,” he says.
“Where was you?” I ast him.
“All over,” he says. “We went to Rockford first, and then Lake Geneva, and then Milwaukee and Kenosha.
“Which place made her homesick?” I ast.
“Oh, it wasn’t no particular place,” he says. “I guess it was when we was comin’ from Milwaukee to Kenosha; and she says, ‘Dearie, I wonder how father and mother’s gettin’ along.’ ‘Why, dearie?’ I ast her. ‘Well, dearie,’ she says, ‘you know this is the first time I ever been away from them for more’n two days, and they must be missin’ me.’ ‘Tell me the truth, dearie,’ I says to her. ‘Let’s not have no secrets from each other: Are you homesick yourself?’ So then she ’fessed up and says, ‘Well, dearie, I am, a little.’ So I says we would go straight home from Kenosha, but we better stop there, because I’d made reservations at the hotel; and besides, they got a big automobile works. She was tickled to death, and says, ‘Dearie, are you always goin’ to do what I want?’ So I told her she could just bet I was as long as I lived.”