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She should never be allowed to overtire herself, mentally or physically. And if she should develop any untoward symptom, for Heaven's sake don't hesitate to send for me! I shan't blame you for being too careful." "I understand," Avery said. He flicked his horse's ears, and the animal broke into a trot. When Tudor spoke again, it was upon a totally different matter.
Denys, can you steady her foot while I get up?" Avery bent to do so. He moved with infinite care; but even so the strain upon the foot was inevitable. Jeanie gave a sharp cry, and sank helpless in his arms. He began to speak encouragingly but broke off in the middle, feeling the child's head lie limp upon his shoulder. "Afraid it's serious," he said to Avery.
He introduced the Happy Family and Applehead to her and to her husband, Lite Avery, and her father. He pulled a skinny individual forward and announced that this was Pete Lowry, one of the Great Western's crack cameramen; and another chubby, smooth-cheeked young man he presented as Tommy Johnson, scenic artist and stage carpenter.
The Vicar's thin lips closed upon the words with the severity of an irrevocable resolution. Avery heard him with a sense of wild rebellion at her heart to which she knew she must not give rein. She stood before him, a defenceless culprit brought up for punishment. It was difficult to be dignified under such circumstances, but she did her best.
No one was in the front. Margaret went to the kitchen, and struggled between packing-cases to the window. Their visitor was only a little boy with a tin can. And triviality returned. "Little boy, what do you want?" "Please, I am the milk." "Did Miss Avery send you?" said Margaret, rather sharply. "Yes, please." "Then take it back and say we require no milk."
One of these friends told him, he was acquainted with some who were very fit for the purpose, and if he would allow them a handsome commission, they would do the business faithfully. Avery liked the proposal, particularly as he could think of no other way of managing this matter, since he could not appear to act for himself.
"I don't exactly recollect how the the change came about," he faltered. "Well, I do! You ducked out across country the night of the punkin freshet, when I was mud bound and the elephant was afraid of the bridges. You and your dancin' turkey and infant anaconda and a cage of monkeys that wasn't yours and Her!" He shouted the word. "What become of Her, Brick Avery?"
It held the table dishes neatly piled: dinner plates at the end of the middle shelf, smaller plates next, then a stack of saucers, the arrangement stereotyped, unvarying since first Lite Avery had taken dishtowel in hand to dry the dishes for Jean when she was ten and stood upon a footstool so that her elbows would be higher than the rim of the dishpan.
It pierced her; but oddly she felt no resentment, only a curious sensation of compassionate sympathy. "Yes, I saw him some weeks ago," she said. "You have not decided to separate then? Everyone said you had." Ina's tone was brutally direct, yet still, strangely, Avery felt no indignation. "We have not been friends for the last year," she said. "Ah! I thought not. And why?
"And, say!" Real enthusiasm for the idea began to lighten his eyes. "If you want good range dope, right out there's where you can sure find it. You play up to them Bar Nothing boys Lite Avery and Joe Morris and Red. You ought to get some great pictures out there, man.
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