The moon, shining through the branches of the big oak tree made faintly-flickering shadows at her feet. The white hammock, stirring occasionally as a breeze touched it, invited her. She went over to it and lay for many minutes looking up, noting how fast the moon glided from one branch of the tree to another. Now it neared the trunk. Now a slice was cut off its western rim. Now it was only a half moon—“a bweak-moon on the sky,” as her little boy had called it. Now there was a total eclipse. When it began peeping out on the other side of the trunk our watcher's dreamful eyes took no note of it. A dog barked. She sprang up and seated herself in the chair again. She dare not trust herself to the hammock. It was too seductive and too delightful. So she sat erect and waited for the ring which might not come but which must be watched for just the same. Her promise had gone forth. Far up the street she heard horses' hoofs—it must be John returning. The buggy-top shining in the moonlight came into view. No, it was a white horse. Her vigil was not yet ended. A quarter of an hour later she discerned a figure far down the walk. She followed it with her eyes. It moved swiftly on. Would it turn at the corner and come up toward their house? Yes, it was turning. Then it turned into the yard. It was John. She went forward and leaning over the railing called down to him, “A good chance to play Romeo now, John.” John only grunted—after the manner of husbands.
“Nobody rang. I'm going to bed again. Good night—I mean good morning.”
The next night was hotter than ever and Mary made up her mind she would sleep up in the hammock. She had had a delicious taste of it which made her wish for more. To avoid useless discussion she would wait till John retired and was asleep, then she would quietly steal away. But when this was accomplished and she had settled herself comfortably to sleep she found herself wide awake. She closed her eyes and gently wooed slumber, but it came not. Ah, now she knew! The night before she had shaken off all responsibility for the 'phone. Therefore she could sleep. Tonight her husband lay unconscious of her absence and the burden of it was upon her shoulders again. Well, she must try to sleep anyway, this was too good a chance to lose. She fell asleep. After awhile dinner was ready. Mollie had rung the little bell for the boys. Now she was ringing it again. Where can the boys have got to? Ting-a-ling-ling-ling. Ting-a-ling-ling-ling. Ting-a-ling-ling-ling. Mary sat up in the hammock and rubbed her eyes.
“Oh!” she sprang out and rushed to the stairs. “Doctor!”
“John!” The snores continued. Ting-a-ling-ling-ling-ling-ling!
“Oh, dear!” gasped Mary, hurrying down as fast as her feet could take her. Straight to the 'phone she went. It must be appeased first.
“Hello?”
“Hell-o! Where's the doctor?”
“He is very fast asleep.”