Dear old Jim! I still see your tender, shrinking eyes peering at her
from under your bushy eyebrows and still hear the low ripple of your
merry laugh over her volleys of questions. You were so proud of her and
so happy in those days! So tender in touch, so gentle of voice, so
constant in care!
One morning I had some letters to write, and Ruby and Jim took the rods
and went up the brook without me. They both begged me to go, Ruby being
particularly urgent, I thought, but I had already delayed the mail too
long and so refused point-blank--too abruptly, perhaps, as I thought
afterward, when I remembered the keen look of disappointment in her
face. When she re-entered the cabin alone an hour later she passed me
hurriedly, and calling out to her father that Jim was wanted at the
sawmill to fix the wheel and would not be back until morning, shut
herself into her room before I could offer myself in Jim's place--which
I would gladly have done, now that her morning's pleasure had
been spoiled.
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