And Lydia spoke yet again, saying, "Why, O woman of many wiles, hast
thou no cream?"
And the woman made way with an insect that swam gaily in a pitcher of
azure milk, and said gently, "Because we sell it to a neighboring
dairy."
And Lydia said nothing, but remembering the words of John, the
tea-merchant, wept silently.
And it came to pass that next morning the children went forth to leap in
the hay.
And the farmer led them firmly away from the hay-mow by the tip of the
ear, saying, "I allow no children to spoil my fodder."
And the morning of the second day, the woman Lydia, being starved for
nutritious food, wended her way with her babes across a stretch of
pasture land in search of wild blackberries.
And a beast, whose voice was baritone and whose approach was like the
approach of a Kansas cyclone, bore down upon her and the children
heaven had given her, while yet they were midway in the meadow. Now only
by leaping could they save themselves.
And it came to pass that they leaped mightily and flung themselves over
a five-barred fence.
And a snake made free with the draperies of Lydia, so that her hair
whitened with fear, and between the beast with the baritone voice and
the serpent she knew not which way to turn.
And the morning of the third day she wrote to John, the tea-merchant,
saying only:
"My darling--Meet the first train that returns from this place to the
dear city by the lake, for behold! I and the children heaven sent me are
on our homeward way!"
* * * * *