Page:The Star in the Window.pdf/57

Rh bit, so there's no kick left. They'll never make any more trouble than that tooth will. I bet you God hates to see the pep he's thought best to put into us, picked out like that, and leave us meek as Moses, and no-account. I don't believe He likes it for a cent. Do you?" she asked abruptly.

"Perhaps not," murmured Reba.

"What big passion have you got driving you?" demanded Cousin Pattie.

Reba's soul squirmed within her at the staggering inquiry.

"Oh, none; I don't believe I've any big passion," she replied.

"None? Do you mean there's nothing you want that you haven't got in this world?" incredulously Cousin Pattie followed her up.

"Oh, yes; I suppose there are things I want, of course.'

"Well, what? What are they?"

"Why, I want—" she began, then stopped. How could she explain—what she wanted was so vague—people, life, adventure, youth. Youth! And she was twenty-five. Oh, it was too late for what she wanted. "Oh, I don't know," she ran to cover. "There used to be things I wanted, but I guess there's nothing special now. I'm twenty-five years old to-day!" she finished.

"Twenty-five!" Cousin Pattie raised both her fat hands, then let them drop dead weights on the arms of the chair. "Dear, dear, dear!" she sighed. "If I was only twenty-five again! Just at the start! Life all before me. And with your money—and no asthma—and thin! Goodness, what wouldn't I do? It never