“Isn’t that old mossback a treat for the sight of gods and men?” asked Polk with a laugh as we all stood watching the old gray coat-tails flapping in the warm breeze that was rollicking across the valley.
“I don’t know what I would do without him,” said Sadie softly, with tears suddenly misting the violets in her eyes as she turned away from us with the baby in her arms and went slowly up the front walk of Widegables.
“Please come stay with me a little while, Evelina,” she pleaded back over her shoulder. “I feel faint.”
I hesitated, for, as we were on my side of the Road, Polk was still my guest.
“Go on with Sallie, sweetie,” he answered my hesitating. “I don’t want the snapped-off fraction of a declaration like you were about to offer me. I can bide my time—and get my own.” With which he turned and got into his car as I went across the street.
Jane, I feel encouraged. I have done well to-day to get half way through my declaration of independence—though he doesn’t think that is what it is going to be—to Polk. If I can just tell him how much I love him, before he makes love to me we can get on such a sensible footing with each other. I’ll command the situation then.
But suppose I do get Polk calmed down to a nice friendship after old Plato’s recipe, what if I want to marry him?
Do I want to marry a friend?
Yes, I do!
DEEPER THAN SHOULDERS AND RIBS
There are many fundamental differences between men and women which strike deeper than breadth of shoulders and number of ribs on the right side.
Men deliberately unearth matters of importance and women stumble on the same things in the dark. It is then a question of the individual as to the complications that result. One thing can be always counted on. A woman likes to tangle life into a large mass and then straighten out the threads at her leisure—and the man’s leisure too.
Glendale affairs interest me more every day.
This has been a remarkable afternoon and I wish Jane had been in Glendale to witness it.
“Say, Evelina, all the folks over at our house have gone crazy, and I wish you would come over and help Cousin James with ’em,” Henrietta demanded, as I sat on my side porch, calmly hemming a ruffle on a dress for the Kitten. Everybody sews for the twins and, as much as I hate it, I can’t help doing it.
“Why, Henrietta, what is the matter?” I demanded, as I hurried down the front walk and across the road at her bare little heels. By the time I got to the front gate I could hear sounds of lamentation.
“A railroad train wants to run right through the middle of all their dead people and Sallie started the crying. Dead’s dead, and if Cousin James wants ’em run over. I wants ’em run over too.” She answered over her shoulder as we hurried through the wide front hall.