He
chuckled; even Mrs. Wart looked tidy and clean in the morning air; his
lunch smelt savory in the basket. Then suddenly recalling the old
machinist, and the history in which he was himself part actor, he
abruptly altered his expression, drawing down his red eyebrows to a
tragic scowl, and glaring out into the pleasant light as one who insults
fate.
"Whatever is thee glowerin' thataway about?" snapped his companion.
Andy took out his handkerchief, and wiped his forehead deliberately.
"Men see passages in human life that women suspect nothing about, Mem.
Darn this wagon, how it jolts! There's lots of genius trampled underfoot
by yer purse-proud tyrants, Mem."
"Theeself, for instance. Thee'd best mind thy horse, boy."
But she patted her basket comfortably. It is so easy to think people
cruel and coarse who have more money than ourselves! Not for Andy,
however. His agrarian proclivities were shallow and transient enough. So
presently, as they bowled along the level road, he forgot Joe Starke,
and began drumming on the foot-board and humming a tune,--touching now
and then the stuffed breast-pocket of his coat with an inward chuckle of
mystery.
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