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Updated: May 22, 2025
"I hate that yellow hot sand, and the yellow hot sun, and the lights and shadows on the mountains. I hate the mountains most of all. They look so abominably cock-sure, so crowy, standing off there and glaring down on us as if they were laughing at our silly little fight for health." Carol was speechless, but David spoke up quickly.
No change in the sitting-room, except that the nurse had taken a seat at the corner of the table with the child on her lap, and was feeding him from a bowl of milk and bread. "'Your master and mistress not up yet? I ventured to say. "'No, sir, and no sign of them; I am giving little Crowy his supper, and am going to put him to bed.
This was their baby, this brilliant, talented, beautiful little fairy, and Carol alternately nudged David's arm and tapped his shoulder to remind him of the dignity of his fatherhood. But in one little hour, she remembered that after all, David was her job, and even crowy, charming little Julia must not crowd him aside, and she hastened to prepare the endless egg-nog.
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