"I should only
quarrel with my husband, if I did. And Dick will never do anything--
not with his head."
"Forgive me if I am dull," I pleaded, "but what is the connection
between this house, your quarrels with your husband if you ever get
one, and Dick's head?"
By way of explanation, Robin sprang to the ground, and before he
could stop her had flung her arms around Dick's neck.
"We can't help it, Dick dear," she told him. "Clever parents always
have duffing children. But we'll be of some use in the world after
all, you and I."
The idea was that Dick, when he had finished failing in examinations,
should go out to Canada and start a farm, taking Robin with him.
They would breed cattle, and gallop over the prairies, and camp out
in the primeval forest, and slide about on snow-shoes, and carry
canoes on their backs, and shoot rapids, and stalk things--so far as
I could gather, have a sort of everlasting Buffalo-Bill's show all to
themselves. How and when the farm work was to get itself done was
not at all clear. The Little Mother and myself were to end our days
with them. We were to sit about in the sun for a time, and then pass
peacefully away. Robin shed a few tears at this point, but regained
her spirits, thinking of Veronica, who was to be lured out on a visit
and married to some true-hearted yeoman: which is not at present
Veronica's ambition. Veronica's conviction is that she would look
well in a coronet: her own idea is something in the ducal line.
Pages:
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54