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"Lafe, what's against taking him into the 'Happy in Spite'? He's happier'n any kid in the whole world, having you for a daddy and Peg for his mother." Jinnie thrust the baby's plump hand through the bars, and Lafe, with tears in his eyes, shook it tenderly, then kissed it. "Lafe Grandoken, Jr," he whispered, "you're now a member of the 'Happy in Spite' Club."
Sorensen looked at the NAC&M scientist sideways. "You don't sound any happier'n I am, Mr. Thorn." Thorn looked at him and thought he could see that flash of odd humor in his light blue eyes. Thorn exhaled a heavy breath. "I'm no happier than you are to be out in this heat. Let's get on with it." Sorensen's chuckle sounded so out of place that Thorn was almost startled.
As she put this question sincerely to him, Jinnie reminded the cobbler of a beautiful flower lifting its proud head to the sun. In his experience with young people, he had never seen a girl like this one. "It makes me happier'n anything!" he replied, cheerfully. "The wonderful part is I wouldn't know about it if I hadn't lost my legs. I'll tell you about it, lass."
He poured a tremendous dram, looked at it long, then stepped to the window, and with a quaking hand emptied both glass and bottle on the ground, as if he knew life depended on a silent tongue in a sober head. And then he glanced once more at the letter, folded it, and let it slowly into his pocket. "'Happy as a big sun-floweh, is you? I ain't. I ain't no happier'n a pig on the ice.
It must be pretty hard to live in a house where you can't enjoy yourself. I shouldn't think it would seem like home. A man like you NEEDS a good home. Why, how I do run on! "Oh, there ain't really nothin' the matter with the Widow Larkin so fur's smartness is concerned, there ain't. "And for five days more Kenelm ate his meals at Abbie's and smoked and was happy, happier'n he'd been for months.
"Rita, what would you give to have your grand-dad renounce his vow some day and begin speaking to your grandmother as if nothing had ever been amiss?" She looked at me and her lips trembled. "Say, George! Don't fool me. I ain't myself on that subject." "What would you give, Rita?" "I'd give anything. I'd pretty near give my life, George; for grandmother would be happier'n an angel."
And I'm happier'n I expected to be, finding out how quiet and respectable Palomitas is not a bit what your letters made me think it was and such real good people living in it, and everything but the queer country and the queer mud houses just like it is at home. Mr. Hill has been telling me all about it, coming over, and about this new church you're building that you gave the lot for.
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