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Their cheerful voices and the slow splash and clank of oars came back to Carol from the dimness. In the sky a fiery plain sloped down to a serene harbor. It dissolved; the lake was white marble; and Kennicott was crying, "Well, old lady, how about hiking out for home? Supper taste pretty good, eh?" "I'll sit back with Ethel," she said, at the car. It was the first time she had called Mrs.
It spread out so; it went on so uncontrollably; she could never know it. Kennicott was closeted in his detective story. With the loneliness which comes most depressingly in the midst of many people she tried to forget problems, to look at the prairie objectively. The grass beside the railroad had been burnt over; it was a smudge prickly with charred stalks of weeds.
Since then, in four months, she had beheld Cy hanging a cat, stealing melons, throwing tomatoes at the Kennicott house, and making ski-tracks across the lawn, and had heard him explaining the mysteries of generation, with great audibility and dismaying knowledge.
In front of Harry Haydock's Kennicott sighed: "We better stop in here and 'phone for a machine." She followed him like a wet kitten. The Haydocks saw them laboring up the slippery concrete walk, up the perilous front steps, and came to the door chanting: "Well, well, well, back again, eh? Say, this is fine! Have a fine trip? My, you look like a rose, Carol. How did you like the coast, doc?
We'd get sick on too many cookies, but ever so much sicker on no cookies at all." "That's foolish." "It is, O male Kennicott!" "Huh!" said Kennicott II, and went to sleep on her shoulder. The theory of the Dauntless regarding Carol's absence: Mrs. Will Kennicott and son Hugh left on No. 24 on Saturday last for a stay of some months in Minneapolis, Chicago, New York and Washington. Mrs.
When Carol talked about the Balkans, and the possibility of a German revolution, Kennicott yawned, "Oh yes, it's a great old scrap, but it's none of our business. Folks out here are too busy growing corn to monkey with any fool war that those foreigners want to get themselves into." It was Miles Bjornstam who said, "I can't figure it out.
The only remnant of Vida's identification of herself with Carol was a jealousy when she saw Kennicott and Ray together, and reflected that some people might suppose that Kennicott was his superior. She was sure that Carol thought so, and she wanted to shriek, "You needn't try to gloat! I wouldn't have your pokey old husband. He hasn't one single bit of Ray's spiritual nobility."
Westlake laughed comfortably. After such a disclosure what could Carol do but return the courtesy by remarking that as for Kennicott, he wasn't romantic enough the darling. Before she left she had babbled to Mrs. Carthal's diabetes, and what Kennicott thought of the several surgeons in the Cities. She went home soothed by confession, inspirited by finding a new friend.
After only fifteen minutes of conference on her stockings, her son, her separate bedroom, her music, her ancient interest in Guy Pollock, her probable salary in Washington, and every remark which she was known to have made since her return, the supreme council decided that they would permit Carol Kennicott to live, and they passed on to a consideration of Nat Hicks's New One about the traveling salesman and the old maid.
Before the program committee adjourned they took three minutes to decide which of the subjects suggested by the magazine Culture Hints, Furnishings and China, or The Bible as Literature, would be better for the coming year. There was one annoying incident. Mrs. Dr. Kennicott interfered and showed off again.
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