L2-8-3

The man told me his name was Henry.

That night Henry and I talked about many different things, but mainly about her.

The next day passed quietly.

Thursday evening we had a visitor.

He was a big gray -haired miner named Tom.

I just came for a few minutes to ask when she's coming home, he explained.

Is there any news?

Oh yes, the man replied, I got a letter.

Would you like to hear it?

He took a yellow letter out of his shirt pocket and read it to us.

It was full of loving messages to him and to other people.

They're close friends and neighbors.

When the man finished reading it, he looked at his friend.

Oh, no, you are doing it again, Tom.

You always cry when I read a letter from her.

I'm going to tell her this time.

No, you must not do that, Henry, the gray -haired miner said.

I am getting old and any little sorrow makes me cry.

I really was hoping she would be here tonight.

The next day, Friday, another old miner came to visit.

He asked to hear the letter.

The message in it made him cry too.

We all miss her so much.

He said.

Saturday finally came.

I found I was looking at my watch very often.

Henry noticed this.

You don't think something has happened to her, do you?

He asked me.

I smiled.

And said that I was sure she was just fine.

But he did not seem satisfied.

I was glad to see his two friends, Tom and Joe, coming down the road as the sun began to set.

The old miners were carrying guitars.

They also brought flowers and a bottle of whiskey.

They put the flowers in vases and began to play some fast and lively songs on their guitars.

Henry's friends kept giving him glasses of whiskey which they made him drink.

When I reached for one of the two glasses left on the table, Tom stopped my arm,

dropped that glass and take the other one he whispered.

He gave the remaining glass of whiskey to Henry just as the clock began to strike midnight.

Henry emptied the glass.

His face grew whiter and whiter.

Oys, he said, I am feeling sick.

I want to lie down.