"
Rivers seated himself at the little pine table. "I guess you'd better
whistle while you're dipping the peaches," he said, pointedly.
Miss Thompson dropped the spoon. "What impudence!"
"Oh, let him go on--don't mind him," said Estelle. "Let's desert him; I
guess that will make him sorry."
Upon the word they all withdrew, and Rivers smiled. "Good riddance,"
said he.
Miss Baker presently opened the door, and, shaking a letter, said,
"Don't you wish you knew?"
He pretended to hurl a biscuit at her, and she shut the door with a
shriek of laughter.
Mrs. Burke slipped in. Her voice was low and timid, her face sombre.
"I cooked the supper, Jim."
"You did? Well, it's good. The biscuits are delicious." He looked at her
as only a husband should look--intimate, unwaveringly, secure. "You're
looking fine!"
She flushed with pleasure. As she passed him with the tea, he put his
arm about her waist.
"Be careful, Jim," she said, gently, and with a revealing, familiar, sad
cadence in her voice.
He smiled at her boyishly.
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