Page:The Sick-A-Bed Lady.djvu/225

 creaky back door into the garden, along the gray, pebbly gravel walk between the tall tufts of crim son and purple phlox, to the little gay-faced plot of heart s-ease where the family doctor, symbolist and literalist, had bade her dig and delve every day in the good, hot, wholesome, freckly sunshine. Close by in the greensward an absurd pet lamb was tugging and bouncing at the end of its stingy tether. In a moment's time the girl had transferred the clumsy iron tether-stake to the midst of her posy bed. Then she started for the gate.

Pausing for just one repentant second with her hand on the gate latch, she turned and looked back to the ruthlessly trodden spot where the bland-eyed lamb stood eyeing her quizzically with his soft, woolly mouth fairly dripping with the tender, pre- cious blossoms. "Heart s-ease. B-a-a !" mocked the girl, with a flicker of real amusement. "Heart s-ease. B-a-a-!" scoffed the lamb, just because his stomach and his tongue happened to be made like that. Then with a quick dodge across the lane she ran to meet the electric car and started off triumphantly for the city, shutting her faint eyes resolutely away from all the roadside pools and ponds and gleams of river whose molten, ultimate peace possibilities had lured her sick mind so inces- santly for the past dozen weeks.

Two hours later, with a hectic spurt of energy,