to work—I’ll just bet he’ll turn out to be a smart man—then we can be so proud.” Sally’s eyes danced. “Remember when he cried yesterday, and I said, ‘Don’t cry, Denny, you’re a little man now,’ and he said, ‘Why baby men cry.’ “ Sally clapped her hands with love.
Leora kissed her sister and said, “Sally, I’d give anything in the world to be the girl you are.”
“Why, Leora,” exclaimed Sally, “what in the dickens am I? I’m the head cleaner and the dish-washer. I spread the Vaseline on the kids when they hurt themselves.”
“But you’re more than that, Sally, and I’ve just now thought about it.” Leora rubbed her hands over her breasts, then smoothed her hair back. “But let’s not talk about it. I’ll write to you—and help—because you’re square, Sally— Now let’s go over to Aunt’s; then we can come back and finish packing.”
On the way to their aunt’s, Leora said, “You can borrow Eddie Wilson’s car tonight, can’t you, Sally?”
“Yes, dear.”
“The train leaves here at nine. I want you to take me to Bellview. I’ll get on there,” said Leora.
“We can start at eight. It’s only twelve miles,” returned Sally, “But how about the trunk?”
“I’ll wire or write you when to send it. I want to look around first.”
The girls found their aunt quite casual. “You’d better wire Alice you’ll be there,” she advised. “God only knows where that kid’ll be—I’ll telephone it from here.”
The message sent, the aunt returned to the girls, “I suppose you’ll miss your father,” she bantered.
“Yes,—like the measles,” returned Leora. The aunt half smiled.
As the girls left the aunt said, “I’m with you like I’m with Alice, Leora—if you need me, I’m here.”
“All right, Aunt,” said Leora, “I’ll remember.”
While returning home, Leora said to Sally, “Don’t tell the kids I’m going for good—one funeral’s enough in a year.”
“All right, but you must write,” insisted Sally.
“I will,” said Leora.
She bade all a casual good-bye, and chided her father when he tried to caress her.
Both girls were silent on the way to Bellview. Leora passed the spot where she had seen the fireflies with the doctor. Remembrance of it touched her lightly, as a fleck of snow would a pane of glass. A jubilant feeling came over her. “Well, Sally,” she said, “I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m on my way. Will you wish me luck?”
“You’ll get along all right,” Sally smiled, as the small car chugged up the hill to the station.
Dr. Farway was reading a newspaper as the car passed.
Sally cried for a moment.
“Please don’t, Sally, I’ll write—but don’t cry.”
Caressing her sister, Leora boarded the car, and was taken to Dr. Farway’s compartment.
Sally watched the train until it could be seen no more.
In a few moments she dried her eyes, and turned the little car.
When a few miles from the depot, a sudden impulse made her turn the car toward the cemetery.
For a long time she stood at her mother’s grave; then returned to the little car, and home.
Chapter 8
When Dr. Farway became amorous, Leora complained of not feeling well. Unable to master his companion, he went to the lounge car and ordered a drink. He mused over the inconsistency of life. He enjoyed Leora more than his wife in every way. She brought him youth and joy. The thought of divorce as a solution did not once enter his mind.
And now, with a growing practice, and a wealthy, ailing wife, he was digging the rut deeper. He smiled with satisfaction at Dr. Haley. He wondered if he might have caressed Leora. Then he recalled what she had said about him. Lulled by vanity, he dismissed the thought.
At first Leora’s mind kept pace with the rolling wheels. It became more steady in a few hours. Her life passed before her like a cinema. Being of a nature that could not long cherish hate, the changing scene made her see her
Leora kissed her sister and said, “Sally, I’d give anything in the world to be the girl you are.”
“Why, Leora,” exclaimed Sally, “what in the dickens am I? I’m the head cleaner and the dish-washer. I spread the Vaseline on the kids when they hurt themselves.”
“But you’re more than that, Sally, and I’ve just now thought about it.” Leora rubbed her hands over her breasts, then smoothed her hair back. “But let’s not talk about it. I’ll write to you—and help—because you’re square, Sally— Now let’s go over to Aunt’s; then we can come back and finish packing.”
On the way to their aunt’s, Leora said, “You can borrow Eddie Wilson’s car tonight, can’t you, Sally?”
“Yes, dear.”
“The train leaves here at nine. I want you to take me to Bellview. I’ll get on there,” said Leora.
“We can start at eight. It’s only twelve miles,” returned Sally, “But how about the trunk?”
“I’ll wire or write you when to send it. I want to look around first.”
The girls found their aunt quite casual. “You’d better wire Alice you’ll be there,” she advised. “God only knows where that kid’ll be—I’ll telephone it from here.”
The message sent, the aunt returned to the girls, “I suppose you’ll miss your father,” she bantered.
“Yes,—like the measles,” returned Leora. The aunt half smiled.
As the girls left the aunt said, “I’m with you like I’m with Alice, Leora—if you need me, I’m here.”
“All right, Aunt,” said Leora, “I’ll remember.”
While returning home, Leora said to Sally, “Don’t tell the kids I’m going for good—one funeral’s enough in a year.”
“All right, but you must write,” insisted Sally.
“I will,” said Leora.
She bade all a casual good-bye, and chided her father when he tried to caress her.
Both girls were silent on the way to Bellview. Leora passed the spot where she had seen the fireflies with the doctor. Remembrance of it touched her lightly, as a fleck of snow would a pane of glass. A jubilant feeling came over her. “Well, Sally,” she said, “I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m on my way. Will you wish me luck?”
“You’ll get along all right,” Sally smiled, as the small car chugged up the hill to the station.
Dr. Farway was reading a newspaper as the car passed.
Sally cried for a moment.
“Please don’t, Sally, I’ll write—but don’t cry.”
Caressing her sister, Leora boarded the car, and was taken to Dr. Farway’s compartment.
Sally watched the train until it could be seen no more.
In a few moments she dried her eyes, and turned the little car.
When a few miles from the depot, a sudden impulse made her turn the car toward the cemetery.
For a long time she stood at her mother’s grave; then returned to the little car, and home.
Chapter 8
When Dr. Farway became amorous, Leora complained of not feeling well. Unable to master his companion, he went to the lounge car and ordered a drink. He mused over the inconsistency of life. He enjoyed Leora more than his wife in every way. She brought him youth and joy. The thought of divorce as a solution did not once enter his mind.
And now, with a growing practice, and a wealthy, ailing wife, he was digging the rut deeper. He smiled with satisfaction at Dr. Haley. He wondered if he might have caressed Leora. Then he recalled what she had said about him. Lulled by vanity, he dismissed the thought.
At first Leora’s mind kept pace with the rolling wheels. It became more steady in a few hours. Her life passed before her like a cinema. Being of a nature that could not long cherish hate, the changing scene made her see her
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