The Dickys were on good
terms again, for a wonder, and when we went in they were in front of the
fire, she on a box and he at her feet, with his head buried in her lap.
He didn't even look up when we entered.
"They're here, Dicky," she said.
"All right!" he answered in a smothered voice. "How many of 'em?"
"Four," she said, and kissed the tip of his ear.
"For goodness sake, Dick!" Mrs. Sam snapped in a disgusted tone, "stop
that spooning and get us something to sit on."
"Help yourself," he replied, still from his wife's lap, "and don't be
jealous, sis. If the sight of married happiness upsets you, go away. Go
away, anyhow."
Mr. Sam came over and jerked him into a sitting position. "Either you'll
sit up and take part in this discussion," he said angrily, "or you'll go
out in the snow until it's over."
Mr. Dick leaned over and kissed his wife's hand.
"A cruel fate is separating us," he explained, "but try to endure it
until I return. I'll be on the other side of the fireplace."
Miss Patty came to the fire and stood warming her hands. I saw her
sister watching her.
"What's wrong with you, Pat?" she asked. "Oskar not behaving?"
"Don't be silly," Miss Patty said. "I'm all right."
"She's worked to death," Mrs. Sam put in. "Look at all of us. I'll tell
you I'm so tired these nights that by nine o'clock I'm asleep on my
feet."
"I'm tired to death, but I don't sleep," Miss Patty said. "I--I don't
know why."
"I do," her sister said.
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