“But Bunny, you know he can’t do that—he wouldn’t cross Verne in regard to the strike.”
“He’s simply; got to do it, Vee! I’d be a dog to let a man like Paul be locked up in that filthy hole.”
“But suppose Dad won’t, Bunny?”
“Then I’ve got to go back, that’s all there is to it.”
“What could you do when you got there?”
“I’ll hunt around till I find somebody that’s got a sense of decency and also a little cash.”
“The combination isn’t so easy to find, dear—I know, because I’ve tried it. And it’s going to make Dad dreadfullly unhappy, to say nothing of spoiling our vacation. I have just learned of the loveliest place—a camp that Schmolsky bought up in Ontario, and he’s never been there, he’s too busy. And, oh, Bunny, I thought we were going to have such a marvelous time.”
She put her arms about him, but he hardly knew she was there, so cruelly was his spirit wrung by the vision of Paul in jail. And he, Bunny, running away from the trouble, loafing about and pretending it was a “vacation”! He that thought he understood the social problem, and had an ideal, at least a glimpse of what was kind and fair! He broke loose from Vee’s arms and began to pace the floor, storming half at himself for a renegade and half at the dirty crooks that ran the government of San Elido county, and stole the funds that were supposed to keep the jail clean and feed the prisoners. Bunny was twisting his hands together in his misery, and Vee watched him, startled; it was a new aspect of her Bunny-rabbit, that she had thought so sweet and soft and warm!
“Listen, dear!” she broke in, suddenly. “Stop a minute and talk to me quietly. You know, I don’t know much about these things.”
“What is it?”