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"Thank God!" murmured the little doctor; "the woman in the child shielded her from all but physical shock! And what a quaint philosophy for a girl to evolve." That evening as Marcia Lowe stood before her little mirror in the lean-to, braiding her long smooth hair, she talked a bit for comfort's sake.
Just go into Comfort's room and stand in front of her lookin' glass and look at yourself. There you be, pale and peaked and wore out. Look for all the world just as I done when I had the tonsils two winters ago. Ain't that so, Dorindy?" His wife's answer was a contemptuous sniff.
For comfort's sake you would have a negative dimension to your cosmos, forgetting that your longings and your needs and, it may be, your dreams, are positive. If sex-comradeship and affection were not as accidental and as dependent on mood as love itself, your position would have much in its favour. You could then arrange for compatibility in marriage.
When I came down, after an absence of half an hour, she was sitting by the window, sewing. "Comfort's waitin' to see you, Roscoe," she said. "I've told her all about it." "YOU'VE told her what?" I demanded, in amazement. "About your sellin' the Lane and losin' your job, and so on. Don't look at me like that. 'Twas the only common-sense thing to do.
We will pass on, therefore, to something more interesting. I have already stated that the stations of these settlers were usually built, for comfort's sake, in the neighborhood of salt licks or springs; and near such a lick, as you will remember, Boonesborough stood.
Fore-Top. Ha! ha! ha! ha! hem! clear my throat! I've been thinking over it ever since, and that ha, ha's the final consequence. Why so? Because a laugh's the wisest, easiest answer to all that's queer; and come what will, one comfort's always left that unfailing comfort is, it's all predestinated.
I slowed down the engine and, with an impatient growl, bent over the little binnacle to look at the compass and get my bearings before pointing the Comfort's nose in the direction of Denboro. Then my growl changed to an exclamation of disgust. The compass was not there. I knew where it was.
"That's what's caused ye to be so long, Mas' Gammon?" The veteran of the fields responded with a grin, designed to show a lively cunning. "Deary me, Mas' Gammon, I'd give a fortnight's work to know how much you'm saved, now, I would. And, there! Your comfort's in your heart. And it shall be paid to you.
It was past midnight, and the hearth fire was raked down, and Comfort's father and mother and grandmother were all in bed and asleep, when a little figure in a white nightgown, holding a lighted candle, padding softly on little cold bare feet, came down the stairs. Comfort paused in the entry and listened. She could hear the clock tick and her father snore. The best parlor door was on the right.
Ha! ha! ha! ha! hem! clear my throat! I've been thinking over it ever since, and that ha, ha's the final consequence. Why so? Because a laugh's the wisest, easiest answer to all that's queer; and come what will, one comfort's always left that unfailing comfort is, it's all predestinated.
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