“So young Joe Calvin’s a proud parent, is he? Boy, you say?”
“Boy,” chuckled the Doctor, “and old Joe’s out there having a nervous breakdown. They’ve had ten births in the Calvin family. I’ve attended all of ’em, and this is the first time old Joe’s ever been allowed in the house. To-day the old lady’s out there with a towel around her head, practically having that baby herself. The poor daughter-in-law hasn’t seen it. You’d think she was only invited in as a sort of paying guest. And old lady Calvin comes in every few minutes and delivers homilies on the joys of large families!”
The Doctor laughed until his blue old eyes watered, and he chirped when he had his laugh out: “How soon we forget! Which, I presume, is one of God’s semi-precious blessings!”
When the Doctor went out, Brotherton found the store deserted, except for Miss Calvin, who was in front. Brotherton carried a log to the fireplace, stirred up the fire, and when he had it blazing, found Laura Van Dorn standing beside him.
“Well, George,” she said, “I’ve just been stealing away from my children in the Valley for a little visit with Emma.”
“Very well, then,” said Mr. Brotherton, “sit down a minute with me. Tell me, Laura–about children–are they worth it?”
She was a handsome woman, with youth still in her eyes and face, who sat beside George Brotherton, looking at the fire that March day. “George–good old friend,” she said 518gently, “there’s nothing else in the world so worth it as children.”
She hesitated before going so deeply into her soul, perhaps picking her verbal way. “George–no man ever degraded a woman more than I was degraded. Yet I brought Lila out of it, and I thank God for her, and I don’t mind the price–not now.” She turned to look at Mr. Brotherton inquiringly as she said: “But what I come in to talk to you about, George, was Grant. Have you noticed in the last few months–that growing–well–it’s more than enthusiasm, George; it’s a fanaticism. Since he has been working on the garden plan–Grant has been getting wilder and wilder in his talk about the Democracy of labor. Have you noticed it–or am I oversensitive?”
Brotherton, poking idly in the fire, did not answer at once. At length he said:
“Grant’s a zealot. He’s full of this prisms, prunes and peace idea, this sweetness and light revolution, this notion of hitching their hop-dreams to these three-acre plots, and preaching non-resistance. It’s coming a little fast for me, Laura–just a shade too many at times. But, on the other hand–there’s Nate Perry. He’s as cold-blooded a Yankee as ever swindled a father–and he’s helping with the scheme. He’s–”