A Fool There Was

by Porter Emerson Browne

Kathryn and Elinor watched her going. They heard her cry, "Oh, Mr. Tom!" Another moment and Blake, carrying the child in his arms, thrust aside the bending heads of the white roses and made his way into the garden.

"Hello, folks," was his greeting. "Is God in?"

"Who?" demanded Elinor.

"God," he returned. "This is heaven, isn't it? It certainly does seem like it to anyone who has just come from the fireless cooker that sometimes rejoices under the name of Manhattan. My old Aunt Maria! But it is hot there, though."

"We're very glad to see you, Tom," Kathryn began; "although we do owe you a scolding."

"What for?" he demanded, setting the child to the sward and taking off his hat.

"You haven't been near us for a fortnight."

He seated himself, mopping his forehead.

"Business, Kate. Business," he declared, importantly.

Elinor laughed in pleasant irony.