THE Nick Adams STORIES Read Online Free Page B

time.”
    â€œGood night, Nick,” Joe Garner called. “Aren’t you going to stay and eat?”
    â€œNo, I can’t. Will you tell Carl his mother wants him?”
    â€œAll right. Good night, Nickie.”
    Nick walked barefoot along the path through the meadow below the barn. The path was smooth and the dew was cool on his bare feet. He climbed a fence at the end of the meadow, went down through a ravine, his feet wet in the swamp mud, and then climbed up through the dry beech woods until he saw the lights of the cottage. He climbed over the fence and walked around to the front porch. Through the window he saw his father sitting by the table, reading in the light from the big lamp. Nick opened the door and went in.
    â€œWell, Nickie,” his father said, “was it a good day?”
    â€œI had a swell time, Dad. It was a swell Fourth of July.”
    â€œAre you hungry?”
    â€œYou bet.”
    â€œWhat did you do with your shoes?”
    â€œI left them in the wagon at Garner’s.”
    â€œCome on out to the kitchen.”
    Nick’s father went ahead with the lamp. He stopped and lifted the lid of the icebox. Nick went on into the kitchen. His father brought in a piece of cold chicken on a plate and a pitcher of milk and put them on the table before Nick. He put down the lamp.
    â€œThere’s some pie, too,” he said. “Will that hold you?”
    â€œIt’s grand.”
    His father sat down in a chair beside the oilcloth-covered table. He made a big shadow on the kitchen wall.
    â€œWho won the ball game?”
    â€œPetoskey. Five to three.”
    His father sat watching him eat and filled his glass from the milk pitcher. Nick drank and wiped his mouth on his napkin. His father reached over to the shelf for the pie. He cut Nick a big piece. It was huckleberry pie.
    â€œWhat did you do, Dad?”
    â€œI went out fishing in the morning.”
    â€œWhat did you get?”
    â€œOnly perch.”
    His father sat watching Nick eat the pie.
    â€œWhat did you do this afternoon?” Nick asked.
    â€œI went for a walk up by the Indian camp.”
    â€œDid you see anybody?”
    â€œThe Indians were all in town getting drunk.”
    â€œDidn’t you see anybody at all?”
    â€œI saw your friend, Prudie.”
    â€œWhere was she?”
    â€œShe was in the woods with Frank Washburn. I ran onto them. They were having quite a time.”
    His father was not looking at him.
    â€œWhat were they doing?”
    â€œI didn’t stay to find out.”
    â€œTell me what they were doing.”
    â€œI don’t know,” his father said. “I just heard them threshing around.”
    â€œHow did you know it was them?”
    â€œI saw them.”
    â€œI thought you said you didn’t see them.”
    â€œOh, yes, I saw them.”
    â€œWho was it with her?” Nick asked.
    â€œFrank Washburn.”
    â€œWere they—were they—”
    â€œWere they what?”
    â€œWere they happy?”
    â€œI guess so.”
    His father got up from the table and went out the kitchen screen door. When he came back Nick was looking at his plate. He had been crying.
    â€œHave some more?” His father picked up the knife to cut the pie.
    â€œNo,” said Nick.
    â€œYou better have another piece.”
    â€œNo, I don’t want any.”
    His father cleared off the table.
    â€œWhere were they in the woods?” Nick asked.
    â€œUp back of the camp.” Nick looked at his plate. His father said, “You better go to bed, Nick.”
    â€œAll right.”
    Nick went into his room, undressed, and got into bed. He heard his father moving around in the living room. Nick lay in the bed with his face in the pillow.
    â€œMy heart’s broken,” he thought. “If I feel this way my heart must be broken.”
    After a while he heard his father blow out the lamp and go into his own room. He heard