“I’m used to ingratitude,” he declared. “I’ve a good mind to make a non-washing vow, like those Indian Johnnies and keep off soap and water for seven years!”
“Then you’ll certainly have your meals out in the back yard!” Norah assured him. They shook their tired horses out of a walk and cantered home across the paddocks through the gathering dusk.
CHAPTER IX
A LITTLE YELLOW FLAME
There’s rest and peace and plenty here, and eggs and milk to spare;
The scenery is calm and sane, and wholesome is the air;
The folk are kind, the cows behave like cousins unto me—
But, please the Lord, on Monday morn I’m leaving Arcady.
—Victor J. Daley.
AS she had predicted, Mrs. Brown had not found idleness during the morning hours. The individual who is popularly supposed to supply mischief for unoccupied hands could never be said to number Brownie among his clients. Jim was wont to say that she was a tiringly busy person—with a twinkle in his eye. Her huge form moved with a quite amazing lightness, and she was rarely to be seen sitting still. On the infrequent occasions that she subsided into a chair she produced wool and needles from some unseen receptacle about her person, and knitted as though her life depended on it.