Tonikins, you hear, sir? I
expect you to come on you' for birfday, sure." He tried thus to stop
the woman's gloomy confidence.
'I hate farm life," she went on with a bitter inflection. "It's nothing
but fret, fret and work the whole time, never going any place,
never seeing anybody but a lot of neighbors just as big fools as you
are. I spend my time fighting flies and washing dishes and
churning. I'm sick of it all."
Howard was silent. What could he say to such an indictment? The
ceiling swarmed with flies which the cold rain had driven to seek
the warmth of the kitchen. The gray rain was falling with a dreary
sound outside, and down the kitchen stovepipe an occasional drop
fell on the stove with a hissing, angry sound.
The young wife went on with a deeper note:
"I lived in Lumberville two years, going to school, and I know a
little something of what city life is. If I was a man, I bet I wouldn't
wear my life out on a farm, as Grant does. I'd get away and I'd do
something. I wouldn't care what, but I'd get away."
There was a certain volcanic energy back of all the woman said
that made Howard feel she'd make the attempt. She didn't know
that the struggle for a.
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