I told
Roger about the ghastly wreck, and my agony of apprehension.
I think it was the wreck that made us both feel inclined to
forgive Andrew.
We had a light luncheon together there on the dunes above the
Sound. By taking a short cut over the ridge we struck into
the Shelby road without going down into Port Vigor again. Peg
pulled us along toward Greenbriar, and we talked as we went.
Perhaps the best of it was that a cold drizzle of rain began
to fall as we moved along the hill road. The Professor--as I
still call him, by force of habit--curtined in the front of
the van with a rubber sheet. Bock hopped up and curled
himself aginst his master's leg. Roger got out his corncob
pipe, and I sat close to him. In the gathering gloom we
plodded along, as happy a trio--or quartet, if you include
fat, cheery old Peg--as any on this planet. Summer was over,
and we were no longer young, but there were great things
before us. I listened to the drip of the rain, and the steady
creak of Parnassus on her axles. I thought of my "anthology"
of loaves of bread and vowed to bake a million more if Roger
wanted me to. It was after supper time when we got to
Greenbriar. Roger had suggested that we take a shorter road
that would have brought us through to Redfield sooner, but I
begged him to go by way of Shelby and Greenbriar, just as we
had come before.
Pages:
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157