Not a word of the freshet; of the frightful loss; of the change of
plans for the summer; of the weeks of delay and the uncertain
financial outlook! And alas, dear reader--not a syllable, as you
have perhaps noticed, of poor daddy tottering on the brink of
bankruptcy; nor the slightest reference to brave young women going
out alone in the cold, cold world to earn their bread! What were
floods, earthquakes, cyclones, poverty, debt--what was anything
that might, could, would or should happen, compared to the joy of
their plighted troth!
CHAPTER XXII
Summer has come: along the banks of the repentant stream the
willows are in full leaf; stretches of grass, braving the coal
smoke and dust hide the ugly red earth. The roads are dry again;
the slopes of the "fill" once more are true; all the arches in the
mouth of the tunnel are finished; the tracks have been laid and
the first train has crawled out on the newly tracked road where it
haggled, snorted and stopped, only to crawl back and be swallowed
by The Beast.
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