If there had been a war, Milt would probably have been in it--rather
casual, clearing his throat, reckoning and guessing that maybe his men
might try going over and taking that hill ... then taking it. But all of
this history concerns the year just before America spoke to Germany; and
in this town buried among the cornfields and the wheat, men still
thought more about the price of grain than about the souls of nations.
On the evening before Claire Boltwood left Minneapolis and adventured
into democracy, Milt was in the garage. He wore union overalls that were
tan where they were not grease-black; a faded blue cotton shirt; and the
crown of a derby, with the rim not too neatly hacked off with a dull
toad-stabber jack-knife.
Milt smiled at his assistant, Ben Sittka, and suggested, "Well, wie
geht 's mit the work, eh? Like to stay and get the prof's flivver out,
so he can have it in the morning?"
"You bet, boss."
"Getting to be quite a mechanic, Ben."
"I'll say so!"
"If you get stuck, come yank me out of the Old Home."
"Aw rats, boss. I'll finish it. You beat it." Ben grinned at Milt
adoringly.
Milt stripped off his overalls and derby-crown, and washed his big, firm
hands with gritty soft soap. He cleaned his nails with a file which he
carried in his upper vest pocket in a red imitation morocco case which
contained a comb, a mirror, an indelible pencil, and a note-book with
the smudged pencil addresses of five girls in St. Cloud, and a
memorandum about Rauskukle's car.
He put on a twisted brown tie, an old blue serge suit, and a hat which,
being old and shabby, had become graceful. He ambled up the street. He
couldn't have ambled more than three blocks and have remained on the
street. Schoenstrom tended to leak off into jungles of tall corn.
Two men waved at him, and one demanded, "Say, Milt, is whisky good for
the toothache? What d' you think! The doc said it didn't do any good.
But then, gosh, he's only just out of college."
"I guess he's right."
"Is that a fact! Well, I'll keep off it then."
Two stores farther on, a bulky farmer hailed, "Say, Milt, should I get
an ensilage cutter yet?"
"Yuh," in the manner of a man who knows too much to be cocksure about
anything, "I don't know but what I would, Julius."
"I guess I vill then."
Minnie Rauskukle, plump, hearty Minnie, heiress to the general store,
gave evidence by bridling and straightening her pigeon-like body that
she was aware of Milt behind her. He did not speak to her. He ducked
into the door of the Old Home Poolroom and Restaurant.