"
She went to the door and looked back smiling.
"I'm off for the wood-pile," she called back. "And I've promised to chop
two inches off my heels."
As I say, they took to it like ducks to water--except two of them, von
Inwald and Thoburn. Mr. von Inwald stayed on, I hardly know why, but I
guess it was because Mr. Jennings still hadn't done anything final about
settlements, and with the newspapers marrying him every day it wasn't
very comfortable. Next to him, Mr. Thoburn was the unhappiest mortal I
have ever seen. He wouldn't leave, and with Doctor Barnes carrying
out his threat to take six inches off his waist, he stopped measuring
window-frames with a tape line and took to measuring himself.
I came across him on Wednesday--the third day--straggling home from the
military walk. He and Mr. von Inwald limped across the tennis-court and
collapsed on the steps of the spring-house while the others went on to
the sanatorium. I had been brushing the porch, and I leaned on my broom
and looked at them.
"You're both looking a lot better," I said. "Not so--well, not so
beer-y. How do you like it by this time?"
"Fine!" answered Mr. Thoburn. "Wouldn't stay if I didn't like it."
"Wouldn't you?"
"But I'll tell you this, Minnie," he said, changing his position with
a groan to look up at me, "somebody ought to warn that young man. Human
nature can stand a lot but it can't stand everything. He's overdoing
it!"
"They like it," I said.
"They think they do," he retorted.
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