She
invariably shed a few quiet tears over him which she tried vainly to
conceal, addressed him in a mournful tone, and in spite of his efforts
to cheer her managed to leave behind her after each visit an atmosphere
of depression which it took him some time and strength to overcome.
"Poor mother, she can't help it," philosophized her son. "What stumps
me, though, is why one who takes life so hard should outlive a man like
my father, who was all that is brave and cheerful. Perhaps it took it
out of him to be always playing the game boldly against her fears. But
even so--give me the bluffers, like Red Pepper--and like Mrs. Red.
Jove! but she's a lovely woman. No wonder he adores her. So do I--with
his leave. And so does Anne Linton, I should imagine. Poor little
girl--what does she look like, I wonder?"
If he could have seen her at that moment, holding Susquehanna against
her hollow young cheek, the glowing flower making the white face a
pitiful contrast, he would have been even more touched than he could
have imagined. Also--he would have felt that his wager concerning
Susquehanna was likely to be lost. It is not conducive to the life of a
rose to be loved and caressed as this one was being. But since it was
the first of her flowers that Anne Linton had been able to take note of
and enjoy, it might have been considered a life--and a wager--well lost.
CHAPTER VI
HEAVY LOCAL MAILS
Anne Linton lifted her head ever so little from the allowed incline of
her pillow in the Good Samaritan Hospital.
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