I--I've never spoken of her before--I wasn't fit--"
"Yes?" said Carl.
"She's a little bit of a girl with wonderful eyes," said Wherry, his
eyes gentle. "We used to play a lot by the brook, Carl, until I went
away to college and forgot. I--I wrote her the whole wretched mess,"
he choked. "She says come back."
"Yes," said Carl sombrely, "there are fine, big splendid women like
that. I'm glad you know one. God knows what the world of men would do
without them. You'll go back to her?"
Wherry gulped courageously.
"If--if you think I'm fit," he said, his face white. "If you feel you
can trust me, I'll go in the morning."
"I know I can trust you," said Carl with his swift, ready smile. "I
know, old man, that you'll not forget."
"No," said Dick, "I can't forget."
"Tell me," Carl bent and turned the log. "What will you do now, Dick?
I know your head was turned a bit by the salary Starrett gave you, but
you'll not go back to that sort of work for a while anyway, will you?"
"No," said Dick. "If I knew something of scientific farming," he added
after a while, "I think I'd stay home. Dad's a doctor, a kindly,
old-fashioned chap. I--I'd like to have you know him, Carl--he's a
bully sort. He's living up there in Vermont on a farm that's never
been developed to its full possibilities.
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