Amy had looked disappointed, but had contrived to
whisper that she would write from Iowa. That, of course, was to be looked
for, and would represent the combined efforts of herself and her home
circle; yet he had a fortnight for consideration and counsel.
Cope, during his first few days at home, was moody and abstracted: his
parents found him adding little to the Christmas cheer. His mother, always
busy over domestic cares and now busier than ever, thought that he must
have been working too hard. She would stand in the kitchen door with a
half-trimmed pie on one hand and ponder him as he sat in the dining-room,
staring absorbedly at the Franklin stove. His father, who saw him chiefly
in the evening, by the gas-light of the old-fashioned house, found his face
slightly pinched: was his pocket pinched too, and would he be likely,
before leaving, to ask help toward making up a deficit? His sister Rosalys,
who lived a life of dry routine, figured him as deep in love. He let
several days pass without hinting what the real situation was.
There was interest all round when, the day before Christmas, the postman
came along the bleak and flimsy street and left a letter for him.
Pages:
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233