Charles looked at him. "How on earth--?" he demanded. "What in
blazes are you--a clairvoyant?"
"No-o. No. But it don't need a spirit medium to see through a
window pane, Charlie; that is, the average window pane," he added,
with a glance at his own, which were in need of washing just then.
"You want to know," he continued, "what you'd ought to do now that
will be the right thing, or the nighest to the right thing, for
your sister and Babbie and yourself--and Maud."
"Yes, I do. It isn't any new question for me. I've been putting
it up to myself for a long time, for months; by, George, it seems
years."
"I know. I know. Well, Charlie, I've been puttin' it up to
myself, too. Have you got any answer?"
"No, none that exactly suits me. Have you?"
"I don't know's I have--exactly."
"Exactly? Well, have you any, exact or otherwise?"
"Um. . . . Well, I've got one, but . . . but perhaps it ain't an
answer. Perhaps it wouldn't do at all. Perhaps . . . perhaps . . ."
"Never mind the perhapses. What is it?"
"Um. . . . Suppose we let it wait a little spell and talk the
situation over just a little mite. You've been talkin' with your
sister, you say, and she don't entirely agree with you."
"No. I say things can't go on as they've been going. They can't."
"Um-hm. Meanin'--what things?"
"Everything.
Pages:
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396