Resentment stirred in her toward the wayward son, but she knew better than to voice it.
"Natural like, I reckon, fer Jack to feel gay on gettin' home.

I ain't holdin' thet ag'in' him.

These last three years must have been gallin' to thet boy." Columbine stretched her hands to the blaze.
"It's cold, dad," she averred.

"I didn't dress warmly, so I nearly froze.

Autumn is here and there's frost in the air.