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158
Adventures in Contentment
·
David Grayson
86
Well,
it
was
wonderful
to
see
our
Ruin
expand
in
the
warmth
of
Harriet's
presence.
He
had
been
doubtful
of
me;
of
Harriet,
I
could
see,
he
was
absolutely
sure.
And
how
he
did
eat,
saying
nothing
at
all,
while
Harriet
plied
him
with
food
and
talked
to
me
of
the
most
disarming
commonplaces.
I
think
it
did
her
heart
good
to
see
the
way
he
ate:
as
though
he
had
had
nothing
before
in
days.
As
he
buttered
his
muffin,
not
without
some
refinement,
I
could
see
that
his
hand
was
long,
a
curious,
lean,
ineffectual
hand,
with
a
curving
little
finger.
With
the
drinking
of
the
hot
coffee
colour
began
to
steal
up
into
his
face,
and
when
Harriet
brought
out
a
quarter
of
pie
saved
over
from
our
dinner
and
placed
it
before
him--a
fine
brown
pie
with
small
hieroglyphics
in
the
top
from
whence
rose
sugary
bubbles--he
seemed
almost
to
escape
himself.
And
Harriet
fairly
purred
with
hospitality.
The
more
he
ate
the
more
of
a
man
he
became.
His
manners
improved,
his
back
straightened
up,
he
acquired
a
not
unimpressive
poise
of
the
head.
Such
is
the
miraculous
power
of
hot
muffins
and
pie!
"As
you
came
down,"
I
asked
finally,
"did
you
happen
to
see
old
man
Masterson's
threshing
machine?"
"A
big
red
one,
with
a
yellow
blow-off?"
"That's
the
one,"
I
said.
"Well,
it
was
just
turning
into
a
field
about
two
miles
above
here,"
he
replied.
"Big
gray,
banked
barn?"
I
asked.
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