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"I don't go about quoting Jims's speeches to all I meet. That always bores me when other people do it! I just enshrine them in this old hotch-potch of a journal! "This very evening as I put Jims to bed he looked up and asked me gravely, 'Why can't yesterday come back, Willa? "Oh, why can't it, Jims?
Then the fire went out of Susan and she retreated to her kitchen, laid her faithful old head on the table and wept bitterly for a time. Then she went to work and ironed Jims's little rompers. Rilla scolded her gently for it when she herself came in to do it. "I am not going to have you kill yourself working for any war-baby," Susan said obstinately.
After many "How are ye, Jims's" and mutual speirings over a "bit mouthful of yill" so they phrased it; but that was a meiosis, for they drank five quarts they fell to a serious discussion of the commercial possibilities of Scotland. The borer was of the opinion that the Braes of Barbie had a future yet, "for a' the gaffer was so keen on keeping his men in the dark about the coal."
Jims's latest exploit was to paint the cushion of the big arm-chair in the sun parlour with molasses; and before anybody found it out Mrs. Fred Clow came in on Red Cross business and sat down on it. Her new silk dress was ruined and nobody could blame her for being vexed.
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