"No-o-o!" wailed Lennie in terror, and he flung away to Timothy's cabin, where he slept all night.
When the horses were fixed up, Tom and Jack went to the cubby. Tom flung himself on the bed without undressing, and lay there in silence. Jack did the same. He didn't know what else to do. At last he managed to say:
"Don't take it too hard, Tom! Dad's lived his life, and he's got all you children. We have to live. We all have to live. An' then we've got to die."
There was unresponsive silence for a time.
"What's the blasted use of it all, anyhow?" said Tom.
"There's no such thing as use," said Jack. "Dad lived, and he had his life. He had his life. You'll have yours. And I shall have mine. It's just your life, and you live it."
"What's the good of it?" persisted Tom heavily.
"Neither good nor bad. You live your life because it's your own, and nobody can live it for you."
"What good is it to me?" said Tom dully, drearily. "I don't care if people live their lives or not."
Jack felt for the figure on the bed.