“‘I’VE BEEN CHOPPING UP WOOD,’ HE
EXPLAINED, IN A GUILTY SORT OF WAY”
‘I’ve been chopping up wood,’ he explained, in a guilty sort of way, though nobody had called on him to account for his doings.
‘What for?’ I inquired stupidly. ‘There’s piles and piles of it chopped up already.’
‘I know,’ said Edward, ‘but there’s no harm in having a bit over. You never can tell what may happen. But what have you been doing all this digging for?’
‘You said it was going to rain,’ I explained hastily. ‘So I thought I’d get the digging done before it came. Good gardeners always tell you that’s the right thing to do.’
‘It did look like rain at one time,’ Edward admitted; ‘but it’s passed off now. Very queer weather we’re having. I suppose that’s why I’ve felt so funny all day.’
‘Yes, I suppose it’s the weather,’ I replied. ‘I’ve been feeling funny too.’
The weather had nothing to do with it, as we well knew. But we would both have died rather than admit the real reason.
