"'So flee the works of men
Back to the earth again,'"
quoted the sentimentalist, smiling from the teeth outward. "Is that all?"
"All you would care about. There were some fussy old bills."
"Whose, for instance?"
"Oh, the grocer's and the coal man's and the butcher's and the water company's, and some other little ones."
"'Some other little ones'," mused Jimaboy. "There's pathos for you. If I could ever get that into a story, with your intonation, it would be cheap at fifteen cents the word. We're up against it, Bella, dear."
"Well?" she said, with an arm around his neck.
"It isn't well; it's confoundedly ill. It begins to look as if it were 'back to the farm' for us."
She came around to sit on the arm of the chair.
"To the railroad office? Never! Jimmy, love. You are too good for that."