“Why would he want to leave tickets for me?”

“I expect he thinks you’re a good-lookin woman.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to go watch a silly prizefight!”

“Well, don’t go, then. I imagine Bobby would love to see the fights.”

“Look at this note. He can hardly spell a word. I’m surprised he got my name right.”

“I had to tell him how to spell it. There’s things in life other than spelling, Emaline. He’s a good-lookin fella, just like you’re a good-lookin woman. He’s maybe ten years older than you are, but I always say a woman should be younger than her man. Takes men longer to grow up.”

“Charlie! I would never step out with a boxer.”

“No, you wouldn’t. And you wouldn’t go with me nor Cecil Narrows, because we’re too damned old. You won’t let Vernon take you dancin because he’s short and homely and he dances like a Black Angus bull. You’re going to end up an old maid if you don’t quit bein so picky.”

“I’m surprised at you, Charlie Naudain. I never knew you for such an old matchmaker. This is one match you are not going to make.”

Cecil Narrows came in then, without Earl Beckman for once. He said Earl was complaining of stomach pains, probably ulcers from all that worry about what the New Dealers were up to, stealing Nebraska dirt and all. Cecil tried to convince Emaline that she ought to go to the fight.

“How often do you get out, girl? Once a week to the motion pictures?”

“Once a week! Who can afford that these days? Once a month, maybe.”

“So go to the fights, then. At least it’s free.”

“No, it isn’t. If I go, he’ll expect something from me. Then it’s not free.”

“By gosh, you’re a hard nut to crack. Aint she, Charlie?”

Charlie shrugged. “Too tough for me. Couldn’t get through that one with a brace and bit.”

“I swear, you two are getting sillier as you get older. I’m not going to watch a bunch of sweaty men punching each other bloody. If one of you wants to go with Bobby, here’s two tickets you can have.”

Cecil Narrows said he would take Bobby to the fight. He showed up in his old Model T Runabout, with a box in back large enough to haul a good-size hog. When he came into the house, Emaline almost threw him out again.

“What is that you’re carrying, Cecil?”

“Why, it’s a rifle.”

“I can see that, Cecil. Why are you bringing it into our house?”