I spent much of
the evening making up nice little speeches which I wished I had had the
sprawl to get off on the spur of the moment. I grew fiery hot at the
thought of how badly I had come off in this little exchange of
compliments with Kittie. Poor Kittie! She supped sorrow with a big spoon
before many years; and then had a long and happy life. I forgave her,
even at the time, for making fun of the Hell Slew Dutch boy. All the
girls made fun of me but Virginia, and she did sometimes--Virginia and
Rowena Fewkes.
Thinking of Rowena reminded me of the fact that I had not seen any of
the Fewkeses for nearly two years. This brought up the thought of Buck
Gowdy, who had carried them off to his great farmstead which he called
Blue-grass Manor. Whenever I was in conversation with him I was under a
kind of strain, for all the fact that he was as friendly with me as he
was with any one else. I remembered how I had smuggled Virginia away
from him; and wondered whether or not he had got intimate enough by this
time at Elder Thorndyke's so that she had given him any inkling as to my
share in that matter.
This brought me back to Virginia--and then the whole series of Virginia
dreams recurred. She sat in the chair which I had bought for her, in the
warm corner next the window. She was sewing. She was reading to me. She
was coming over to my chair to sit in my lap while we talked over our
adventures. She looked at my chapped and cracked hands and told me I
must wear my mittens every minute.
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