"What?"
"Yes, dear, just once more." Appleton saw the tears in her eyes. "I want to smell the fragrance of the pine woods—and sit on the thick pine-needles—and cook over an open fire! Bacon and trout and coffee—yes, and no real cream, either!" She smiled at him through her tears. "Canned milk, and maybe some venison steaks.
"I want to borrow your pocket-knife and dig out spruce gum and chew it, with the little bits of bark in it," she went on, "and I won't promise not to 'pry,' with it, either. I hope I do break the blade! Do you remember that day, and how mad you were?
"I want to see the men crowd into the grub-shack, and hear the sound of the axes and saws and the rattle of chains and the crashing of big trees. I want to see the logs on the rollways; and, Hubert, you won't think I'm awful, will you, dear, but I want to—just once more in my life—I want to hear a big man swear!"
H. D. Appleton stared at his wife in blank amazement, and then, throwing back his head, roared with laughter.
"Well, you sure will, little girl, if you try to slip any canned milk into my coffee!"
His wife regarded him gravely.
"I am not joking, Hubert. Oh, can't you see? Just once more I must have a taste of the old, hard, happy days—can't I?"
"Why, Margaret, you don't really mean that you want to go into the woods—seriously?"
"Yes, I do mean just exactly that—seriously!"