"My Road!" she proudly thought. "My Road!"
The old poem was recalled and was often repeated like a litany, while life became more and more vital and thrilling with dull Kenmore as a background and setting.
Just about this time Jerry-Jo took to wearing his Sunday suit on week days, thus proclaiming his aspirations and awaking the ribald jests of his particular set.
Mary Terhune, now partner of Mrs. McAdam, took note of Jerry-Jo's appearance, and, on a certain afternoon in midwinter, when she, Long Jean, and Mary McAdam sat by the range in the White Fish kitchen, fanned a lively bit of gossip into flame.
"Trade's a bit poor these days, eh, Jean?"
Jean grunted over her cup of green tea.
"Not so many children born as once was, eh? What you make of it, Jean—the woman getting heady or—which?"
Mary McAdam broke in.
"What with poverty and the terrors of losing them, there's enough born to my thinking. Time was when the young 'uns happened; they're thought more on, these days. Women should have a say. If there's one thing a man should keep his tongue off it's this matter of families!"
To this outrageous sentiment the listeners replied merely by two audible gulps of tea, and then Mary Terhune found grace to remark: