The
sluggard is despoiled while he sleeps--yes, by George! if a man lays
down they'll eat him before he wakes!--but the live man can build
straight up till he touches the sky! This is the business man's day;
it used to be the soldier's day and the statesman's day, but this is
OURS! And it ain't a Sunday to go fishin'--it's turmoil! turmoil!--
and you got to go out and live it and breathe it and MAKE it yourself,
or you'll only be a dead man walkin' around dreamin' you're alive.
And that's what my son Bibbs has been doin' all his life, and what
he'd rather do now than go out and do his part by me. And if anything
happens to Roscoe--"
"Oh, do stop worryin' over such nonsense," Mrs. Sheridan interrupted,
irritated into sharp wakefulness for the moment. "There isn't
anything goin' to happen to Roscoe, and you're just tormentin'
yourself about nothin'. Aren't you EVER goin' to bed?"
Sheridan halted. "All right, mamma," he said, with a vast sigh.
"Let's go up." And he snapped off the electric light, leaving
only the rosy glow of the fire.
"Did you speak to Roscoe?" she yawned, rising lopsidedly in her
drowsiness. "Did you mention about what I told you the other
evening?"
"No.
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