page 128 of DEVIL MAKE A THIRD:

He didn't attempt to think about anything and he went along with no conscious thought that his only reason for wanting the walk home was- Aven. He wanted, somewhere so deep inside him that he wouldn't have recognized it, to watch Aven and to do it in his own way as a parent might secretly watch the antics of a child. He wanted to see it at dusk when he was least likely to be stopped, walking slowly down its dusty or muddy streets, on a private boarded walk for a few feet, then down again on the public ruts and ditches and bogs. He wanted to drowse along over the sights his eyes would see and soak up the sounds his ears would hear. A new wagon, perhaps empty of household goods or work tools, but full to the sideboards with a new family, would grind slowly through the straggling streets with old eyes searching and young eyes just as big and as solemn, flaring with excitement. Or it might be an old wagon, piled high with stove and mattresses and chairs and the children walking close to the wheels. Buck always nodded his head slowly at sight of the old wagons. "That bunch has been through the mill," he'd think, "and that kind comes to stay." It never came consciously to his mind that he was proud of Aven. He never thought, "This is my town and it's a good town." They meant the same, but his words were different. "Two more bunches. One to borrow and one to buy."