“It was the last I heard,” said Mrs. Herron. “I went up there the week before I came West to live with Vesta.”
“Any of the folks left there that we used to know?”
“Yes, Dan Costigan lives on the old place yet and his Uncle Trib—oh there's quite a number of the folks we used to know left. Old, of course--”
“Of course. So are we! But how I would love to see them and talk over old times! Do you remember that piece of road between your place and town—right after you passed the schoolhouse? That was the blamedest piece of road in America, I believe.”
“Yes, I remember. But I presume that's all changed now? They say the country is full of automobiles. Dan Costigan has one, I hear.”
“Is that so? Well, good for Dan. He always got the best of everything, Dan did. The nicest team and the shiniest top buggy—got the girl he wanted, too. Some folks seem to get exactly what they want, no matter how big their wants are and others never get even the littlest, weeniest wants; wants so small that it almost seems as if the good God could have spared 'em that much and never missed 'em. For instance, 'way back, when I worked for your father, there were three things I wanted might bad. One was so big it was entirely out of my class. I realize that now—realized it a good many years ago, of course. But the other—you know every boy in those days wanted a girl, a gun and a fiddle. I got the gun.”
“You wanted a fiddle?”
“Always. Always intended to buy a fiddle and learn to play it, but never did. Never saw the time when I had the spare money to buy the instrument nor the chance to practice on it. You have to be more or less alone when you practice the fiddle. Lily never could have stood it and of course I wouldn't have blamed her.”
“Why don't you learn now?”