B. Grosbeak is a bird, and that he probably will spend the winter in a
wild plum thicket in Tennessee?"
"No," said Philip. "I shall tell her that I understand her ideas of
life perfectly, and, of course, I never shall ask her to deal with oily
butter and frozen pumps--"
"--and measley babies," interpolated Elnora.
"Exactly!" said Philip. "At the same time I find so much to
counterbalance those things, that I should not object to bearing them
myself, in view of the recompense. Where do we go and what do we do
to-day?"
"We will have to hunt beside the roads and around the edge of the
Limberlost to-day," said Elnora. "Mother is making strawberry preserves,
and she can't come until she finishes. Suppose we go down to the swamp
and I'll show you what is left of the flower-room that Terence O'More,
the big lumber man of Great Rapids, made when he was a homeless boy
here. Of course, you have heard the story?"
"Yes, and I've met the O'Mores who are frequently in Chicago society.
They have friends there. I think them one ideal couple."
"That sounds as if they might be the only one," said Elnora, "and,
indeed, they are not. I know dozens. Aunt Margaret and Uncle Wesley are
another, the Brownlees another, and my mathematics professor and his
wife. The world is full of happy people, but no one ever hears of them.
You must fight and make a scandal to get into the papers. No one knows
about all the happy people.
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