We both started a little. It was May, who had come round the corner of the house, and the setting sun shone upon her and made her quite lovely, where she stood shading her eyes, with a little hair floating one side of her forehead.
“Well, Jimsy! Dreaming again! Do you know what time it is? The way you’ve took to dreaming is something terrible!”
Jimsy went into the house.
I was glad that two days more would see me out of this.
Next morning I stood justified—oh, more than justified—in Jimsy’s eyes. No one could have anticipated such a performance at the pond as I was able to show him—it bore me out and surpassed anything I had told him—and no one could have foretold that it would fire Jimsy with a curiosity equal to mine.
The ceremony of the toast was in progress when Jimsy, crossing to the corral, saw me thus engaged. He stuck his hands into his pockets and strolled across to the water’s edge, wearing a broad grin of indulgence.
“Awful busy, you are!” said he.
“Just watch them,” said I.
“Oh, I’ve got a day’s work to do.”
“I’m aware,” I retorted, “that scientific observation doesn’t look like work to the ignorant.”