"Think of them White House lawns," sighed Gus. "Gee whiz! If I was president I'd make me the gol darndest croquet court you ever did see."
"Why don't we play like we used to, Stanley?" Sarah asked.
"The kids are too good for me," Stud admitted. "But I'll tell you what I'll do...."
"Tomorrow?"
"You bet! I'll challenge you to a game for our twentieth wedding anniversary, Sarah."
They touched hands for a moment, shyly, hoping the others would not see.
Playing grimly and consistently well, Peter overtook Gus and sent that doleful individual into loud and vituperative lament by driving the farm hand's ball under the distant front porch. He made his next hoop, roqueted on Early Ann, and continued his run to win the game.
He couldn't help comparing Early Ann Sherman to Maxine Larabee as they began their second game in the heat of bitter competition.
"Early Ann's all right for croquet, or swimming, or a tussle on the lawn. But she's not much of a lady," he decided, "and nothing at all like Maxine Larabee."
He shouldn't have let himself think of them in the same breath. Early Ann was nothing but a she wild-cat, and a tomboy. Once she had pushed Gus over the wood box; and she said "damn" when she got mad; and Gus had even seen her trying to smoke a cigarette.