April 23rd, Luncheon
As the long whistle blast signaled the departure of the Noon mixed local, Crandall leaned close to the log book, noting that very fact in his neat block letters. His cursive handwriting had been a private shame to him as far back as his school days, and was still nearly illegible. He slapped the book closed with a sigh, raising a cloud of northern prairie dust.
Donning his sack coat and ineffectually brushing off his sleeves, Arthur made sure the Porter, Charles, was not drunk or asleep then turned his attention to his luncheon of hard-boiled eggs, cheese and stale bread. He ate fussily, wiping nearly non existent crumbs with his handkerchief, whilst perusing a copy of the Omaha Bee.
A man had inadvertently exchanged hats with another, the Council Bluffs Base-Ball team would see a rematch with Plattsmouth for the first time since the twelve inning 7 to 6 game last season. Crandall noted that a special round trip rate of one dollar was being offered. “Always the last to know!” Crandall grunted around a mouthful of egg. The deaf and dumb home was in need of a gardener; Arthur thought with amusement, at least there might be some peace and quiet. Although upon reflection having to loudly declaim the latest changes to the inmates vis-à-vis plantings and grounds-keeping might grow wearisome. The Easter Musicale at the Presbyterian Church on Thursday evening looked delightful, with selections from Gilbert and Sullivan and a new composition for the Badolet brothers by Professor Baetens entitled “Sleep well Thou Beautiful Angel.” He would simply have to be in attendance. He checked his watch, sighing audibly when he noted he had no time to fetch a cream soda from Saxe’s across the river.
To be continued…
