“Wuv e lul lul! Sus o lul o nun gug!” called Jim, as the cab bearing the bride and groom started.
“Gug o o dud lul u sank kuk!” was Kent’s feeling rejoinder.
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER.
No submarine warfare interrupted the peaceful passage of our honeymooners. The voyage was delightful to both of them after all the trials they had been through. Judy was as much at home on the water as on land, literally a born sailor, as she had been born at sea. Kent loved a ship and all the many aspects of the ocean. The lazy days on deck, with their chairs drawn as close together as chairs could be, their hands clasped under the steamer rug, seemed like a beautiful dream, only a dream that was going to last for a lifetime, not the lazy days on deck but the being together and never talking out. Being lazy was not the idea of eternal bliss common to either of these young persons. Kent felt there were worlds to conquer in the architectural universe and he meant to do his share towards conquering them; and with Judy by his side, he gloried in the task before him. As for Judy, she meant to paint like mad and to work up many ideas she had teeming in her head. She was thankful for the reels of undeveloped snapshots she had in her trunk, as she was going to use them as a jog to her memory for the numerous illustrations she meant to make in an article she was thinking of writing on Paris at the outbreak of the war.
Cousin Sally’s admonition to work for the Allies was not forgotten, either. Judy was planning a busy winter for herself in New York just as soon as she and Kent could get themselves settled in an apartment.
“It must be very inexpensive, too, Kent. We must save money.”
Kent couldn’t help laughing at Judy’s solemn face. What would Judy’s friends say at her becoming penurious? Judy, the spendthrift!
“You see, I’ve always cost poor Bobby a lot of money; not that he has ever complained, but I don’t mean to be a burden to you, Kent.”