"I am glad to know you," he said.
"You may take the hand-shaking for granted," replied Mrs. Comstock.
"Dandelions have a way of making fingers sticky, and I like to know
a man before I take his hand, anyway. That introduction seems mighty
comprehensive on your part, but it still leaves me unclassified. My name
is Comstock."
Philip Ammon bowed.
"I am sorry to hear you have been sick," said Mrs. Comstock. "But if
people will live where they have such vile water as they do in Chicago,
I don't see what else they are to expect."
Philip studied her intently.
"I am sure I didn't have a fever on purpose," he said.
"You do seem a little wobbly on your legs," she observed. "Maybe you
had better sit and rest while I finish these greens. It's late for
the genuine article, but in the shade, among long grass they are still
tender."
"May I have a leaf?" he asked, reaching for one as he sat on the bank,
looking from the little creek at his feet, away through the dim cool
spaces of the June forest on the opposite side. He drew a deep breath.
"Glory, but this is good after almost two months inside hospital walls!"
He stretched on the grass and lay gazing up at the leaves, occasionally
asking the interpretation of a bird note or the origin of an unfamiliar
forest voice. Elnora began helping with the dandelions.
"Another, please," said the young man, holding out his hand.
"Do you suppose this is the kind of grass Nebuchadnezzar ate?" Elnora
asked, giving the leaf.
Pages:
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258