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This day my wife put on her black silk gown, which is now laced all over with black gimp lace, as the fashion is, in which she is very pretty. She and I walked to my Lady's at the Wardrobe, and there dined and was exceeding much made of. After dinner I left my wife there, and I walked to Whitehall, and then went to Mr. He told me he would complain of it.
They lifted the helmet of clear, darkened plastic over his head, and dogged it to the gasket with the automatic turnbuckles. By then, Gimp Hines' own quick fingers, in the gloves, were busy snapping this and adjusting that. There was a sleepy hum of aerating machinery. "It even smells right, in here," Gimp growled muffledly, trying to be nonchalant. There was loud laughter and clapping.
But he had entered upon another engagement of six months, to preach for them. Now he needed a permanent home, which he could not conveniently have at Mr. Holland's. There was great putting of heads together at the "Dorcas," about it. Mrs. Gimp "would offer; but then there was Serena, and folks would talk."
"All right, Frank," she said quietly. "Follow your nose. It's just liable to be right on the beam for you. I might follow mine. I don't know." "Joe and Two-and-Two are around if you need anything, Nance," he said. "I'll tell them. Gimp, I hear, is on the way. Not much point in my waiting for him, though..." Somehow he loved Nance Codiss as much or more than ever.
Mitch Storey, the lean colored kid with the passion for all plant life, and the specific urge to get somehow out to Mars, was also moving to help Gimp into the Archer. Gimp waved them off angrily, but they valeted for him, anyhow. "Shucks, Gimp," Storey soothed. "Anybody needs assistance the first time..." They got his good leg, and what there was of the other, into the boots.
To church with my wife, who this day put on her green petticoat of flowred satin, with fine white and gimp lace of her own putting on, which is very pretty. Home with Sir W. Pen to dinner by appointment, and to church again in the afternoon, and then home, Mr. Shepley coming to me about my Lord's accounts, and in the evening parted, and we to supper again to Sir W. Pen.
"I had to bubb all the way from Mercury to Post One to get your location from Art, Frankie," he complained. "Cripes why didn't anybody ever try to beam Gimp and me, anymore? Solar radiation ain't that hard to get past... So I had to come sneak a look for myself, to see what the Big Deal on the grapevine is." "We left the back door unlatched for you, Two-and-Two," Nelsen laughed.
"To think of Nate's boy appearin' here! I can't get over it! Nate's boy! Nate was my favorite brother, you know the littlest one, that I brought up from babyhood. This lad is so completely the livin' image of him that when I clapped eyes on him it took the gimp clear out of me. It was like havin' Nate himself come back again." With fluttering eagerness she sped through the hall.
But about her writing she exhibited an almost morbid timidity lest it be thought "vulgar" or "common" by the editor-in-chief; and once McGuire Ellis felt called upon to warn Hal that he was "taking all the gimp out of the 'Kitty the Cutie' stuff by trying to sewing-circularize it."
"Shucks, that's swell, Les," Ramos responded, suddenly curious. "Here, also," Nelsen enthused. "Sure," Gimp said. But his smile thinned. In this gravity, going to Lester's place was a floating glide rather than a walk. Along a covered causeway, into a huge dome, up a wall with handholds, onto a wispy balcony. Nelsen and Ramos brought liquor and roses.
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