“But you don’t even know how to rest. And now, just as I’m teaching you, you run away. You could wait perfectly well, three weeks longer, and then go back to Granite with us. Just think what a sumptuous time we’d have here! I’m very wise,” she coaxed. “Won’t you take my advice and stay?”
“I’d take it in a minute if I could, girl,” he answered.
“Oh, dear! That means you won’t. Advice is something everybody asks, everybody gives—and nobody takes. I wish you’d stay. This has been the beautifullest, happiest two weeks I ever spent.”
“Has it, honest, Dey?” he asked, his heavy face of a sudden alight. “Honest? It’s been ’bout the only long stretch of happy time I c’n remember.”
“Then why don’t you stay?” she demanded. “Can’t you see?”—
He hesitated.
“I’ve a good mind to,” he said at last.
She clapped her hands, then squeezed his arm as they swung down the hill together.
“Yes,” he went on. “I b’lieve I’ll do it. It’d be fun to see what’d happen if I was to cut loose from work for once. An’ you an’ me could be together—”
“Would you lose so very much?” she asked doubtfully, in belated concern.