"No."
"Jist take our boots off an' play hide and go seek—wudn't it be fun?"
I laughed loudly.
"Whisht!" she said. "They'll catch us if you make a noise!"
"You seem bent on getting your boots off!" I said laughingly. Her reply struck me dumb.
"Honey," she said, so softly and looking into my eyes, "do ye realize that I have never stood on a patch of lawn in my life before?"
Hand in hand we walked toward the gate, taking an occasional, wistful glance back at the glory of the few, and thinking, both of us, of the millions of tired feet that never felt the softness of a smooth green sward.
At eight o'clock that night the door was shut and barred.
Jamie tacked several copies of the Weekly Budget over the window and we were alone.
We talked of old times. We brought back the dead and smiled or sighed over them. Old tales, of the winter nights of long ago, were retold with a new interest.