“There is quite enough that is serious, even now, in these young lives. The laugh of a fool is as the crackling of thorns, and heats no water in the pot; but the grin of the wise boils the kettle of wisdom. There!”
The illustration was unhappy.
“I think, dear, you might put Scripture to wiser use than to twist it into a defense of this perpetual levity. It seems strange to me that you cannot see these things as I see them.”
“Better to give me up as a hopeless case. I shall laugh till I die, and if afterward the supply gives out I shall feel glad that I neglected no reasonable chance on earth.”
“There is a time for all things, Anne, and sometimes—”
“Yes, I know. Only we differ as to the times. I think, now, I must go in and rest a little.”
This was the usual end of their discussions. Anne was mentally victor, but physically defeated. “Yes, I am sure that will be best.” Upon this Anne went away with a smile that was not quite pleasant. In her room she stood a moment and then said, “D. A. M! I think that is good French. The Lord deliver us from the gentle!” and so fell in a heap on the bed, with set teeth and very white.
CHAPTER XIII
Meanwhile the overladen canoe went away up the river. “And now, boys,” said Rose, “this is my day, and there must be no quarrels. We are pretty well packed in one canoe, and I will have only sunshine and good temper. And do sit still. Remember what the wise man said: