There was a long pause. The Colonel tapped his fingers restlessly upon the library table. Allison went over to the open fire and stood with his back to it, clasping his hands behind him. "What have you been doing all the morning, Dad?"
"Nothing. Just sitting here, thinking."
"Pretty hopeless occupation unless you have something in particular to think about."
"It's better to have nothing to think about than to be obliged to think of something unpleasant, isn't it?"
"I don't know," Allison responded, smothering a yawn. "Almost anything is better than being bored."
"You're not bored, are you?" asked the Colonel, quickly.
"Far from it, but I have my work. I was thinking of you."
"I can work, too," the Colonel replied. "I think as soon as the ground thaws out, I'll make a garden. A floral catalogue came yesterday and the pictures are very inspiring."
"Does it give any directions for distinguishing between the flowers and weeds?"
"No," laughed the Colonel, "but I've thought of trying the ingenious plan of the man who pulled up the plants and carefully watered the weeds, expecting the usual contrary results."