“I hate common sense,” Jean cried passionately. “I suppose it’s the only thing to do but did you see Mom’s face? It was utterly tragic. Dad’s been a country boy, and he’s going back home where he knows all about everything and loves it, but Mother’s so different.”
“I think Mom’s a darling, but she’s adaptable too, and she’ll go, you see if she doesn’t. And it won’t kill any of us. The really great mind should rise superior to its environment.”
“Let’s tell Kit that the first time she gripes about dishwashing,” Doris said. “I didn’t hear anything about Lydia going along, did you, Jean?”
“You’ll do your share all right, Kathleen, and when the gray dawn is breaking at that,” laughed Jean. “Farm life’s no snap and really, while I wouldn’t disagree with Dad and Becky about it, I think that those who have special gifts—”
“Meaning you?” asked Kit.
“Meaning me—should not waste their time doing what is not their forte. It takes away the work from those who can’t do the other things.”
Jean’s eyes twinkled and she smiled slightly, but Kit took her seriously and shook her head.
“You’re going to walk the straight and narrow path up at Elmhurst under Becky’s eagle eye just the same, Jean. It’s no use kicking. I don’t mind so much leaving this place, but we’ll miss the kids like crazy.”
“And the roller skating,” added Doris, who went to the neighborhood skating rink with a gang of boys and girls every Friday night. “I’m going to miss that. I wonder if there is a roller rink up there.”
“I see where Kit steps off the basketball team and learns how to run a lawn mower,” Kit remarked. “Also there will be no Wednesday evening dancing class, Doris, where you can polish your jitterbug steps.”