But more than anyone
else he took George. They spent hours working on the car, and at times when
they came into the house begreased and blackened from their work, Edith
reproved them like bad boys--but Deborah smiled contentedly.
But at the end of another week Bruce grew plainly restless, and despite his
wife's remonstrances made ready to return to town. When she spoke of his
hay fever he bragged to her complacently of his newly discovered cure.
"Oh, bother your little blue bugs!" she cried.
"The bugs aren't blue," he explained to her, in a mild and patient voice
that drove Edith nearly wild. "They're so little they have no color at all.
Poor friendly little devils--"
"Bruce!" his wife exploded.
"They've been almighty good to me. You ought to have heard my friend the
Judge, the last night I was with him. He patted his bottle and said to me,
'Bruce, my boy, with all these simple animals right here as our companions
why be a damn fool and run off to the cows?' And there's a good deal in
what he says. You ought to be mighty thankful, too, that my summer
pleasures are so mild. If you could see what some chaps do--"
And Bruce started back for the city. George rode with him the first few
miles, then left him and came trudging home. His spirits were exceedingly
low.
As August drew toward a close, Deborah, too, showed signs of unrest. With
ever growing frequency Roger felt her eagerness to return to her work in
New York.
Pages:
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153