"
Then I gave an imitation of a choking sob which sounded for all the
world like the last dying shriek of a bathtub when the water is
busy leaving it.
"Nonsense, John!" laughed Clara J.; "it's only natural that you
regret leaving our first home, but after one day in the country
you'll be happy as a king."
"Make it a deuce," I muttered; "a dirty deuce at that."
"Now," she said, joyfully; "I'm going to cook your breakfast. This
may be your very last breakfast in a city apartment for months,
maybe years, so I'm going to cook it myself. I've got every trunk
packed--haven't I worked hard? Get up, you lazy boy!" and with
this she danced out of the room.
Every trunk packed! Did she intend taking them with her, and if
she did how could I stop her?
Back to the woods!
I began to feel like a street just before they put the asphalt down.
For some time I lay there with my brain huddled up in one corner of
my head, fluttering and frightened.
Presently an insistent scratch-r-r-r-r aroused me and I began to
sit up and notice things.
The things I noticed consisted chiefly of Tacks and the kitchen
carving knife. The former was seated on the floor laboriously
engineering the latter in an endeavor to produce a large
arrow-pierced heart on the polished panel of the bedroom door.
"What's the idea?" I inquired.
"I'm farewelling the place," he answered, mournfully. "They's only
two more doors to farewell after I get this one finished.
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