BLOSSOM-WEEK
see here, Carl; ye'd better git ready to go wid me. I'll start in a couple o' hours. Will it suit ye, Gran'pop, if Carl goes with me?”—patting her father's shoulder. “If ye keep on a-worritin' I'll hev to hire a cop to follow me round.”
Carl lingered for a moment on the steps. Perhaps Tom had some further orders; perhaps, too, Jennie would come out again. Involuntarily his eye wandered toward the open door, and then he turned to go. Jennie's heart sprang up in her throat. She had seen from behind the curtains the shade of disappointment that crossed her lover's face. She could suffer herself, but she could not see Carl unhappy. In an instant she was beside her mother. Anything to keep Carl—she did not care what.
“Oh, Carl, will you bring the ladder so I can reach the long branches?” she said, her quick wit helping her with a subterfuge.
Carl turned and glanced at Tom. He felt the look in her face and could read her thoughts.
If Tom had heard Jennie she never moved. This affair must end in some way, she said to herself. Why had she not sent him away
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