chicken stuff"— Here Sara gave the kettle a kick—"And we were sweating and 'spiring both! But back we must go in the sun, and, mother, we were so hot we was crying!"
"Well, what should I do? Let 'em make a fool out of me—beat it with my tin-foil in their pockets—and disobey you, father? You told us she had to go. When she's out with me, she's got to mind you," said Robert virtuously.
"Then we came along"—Sara took up the tale—"and Gladys whispered to me, 'Even if he is mean to us, don't let's be mean to him. Give him back his tin-foil.'" Sara's head went up with pride, her face was alight. "And, mother, I gave it right back to him!"
"So then I thought," said Robert, "now I'll cheer them up, for they were still sad. So I thought I'll tell them the name of Uncle Zotsby's dog!" He paused.
"Pa Skalegg is his name!" said Sara with the air of one who says, "Now, Lord, lettest Thou thy servant depart in Peace."
Everything had happened that afternoon. Woman had been guileful, man brutal. Woman had outwitted man with unworthy craft and he had used upon her his weapon of brute force. They had fought the old battle of the ages over again and then, at the end, sweetness having prevailed, they had come home in harmony, a light in their eyes, having made a noble truce; having, for the moment forgotten that woman's ways are dubious and man's violent.
Tom put Alice's arm in his and drew her down beside him on the piazza. They sat there for a while without speaking. They had taken a long journey which had taken them away from each other and finally brought them back to each other.
"What did they fight about?" Tom asked.
