"First time I ever been late. I was
helping Peter; we were so busy that the first thing I knew I heard the hum
of her gliding past the clover field, so I was left. I know how hard
you're working. It won't happen again."
Mickey studied his friend closely. He decided the time had come to watch.
Douglas Bruce was pale and restless, he spent long periods in frowning
thought. He aroused from one of these and asked: "What were you and Peter
doing that was so very absorbing?"
"Well about the most interesting thing that ever happened," said Mickey.
"You see Peter is one of the grandest men who ever lived; he's so fine and
doing so many _big_ things, in a way he kind of fell behind in the
_little_ ones."
"I've heard of men doing that before," commented Douglas. "Can't you tell
me a new one?"
"Sure!" said Mickey. "You know the place and how good it seems on the
outside--well it didn't look so good inside, in the part that counted
most. You've noticed the big barns, sheds and outbuildings, all the modern
conveniences for a man, from an electric lantern to a stump puller;
everything I'm telling you--and for the nice lady, nix! Her work table
faced a wall covered with brown oilcloth, and frying pans heavy enough to
sprain Willard, a wood fire to boil clothes and bake bread, in this hot
weather, the room so low and dark, no ice box, with acres of ice close
every winter, no water inside, no furnace, and carrying washtubs to the
kitchen for bathing as well as washing, aw gee--you get the picture?"
"I certainly do," agreed Douglas, "and yet she was a neat, nice-looking
little woman.
Pages:
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653