"I'm afraid I'll never finish it before we leave," I said, "and I doubt
whether I will ever quite solve the mystery of turning heels."
"That's too bad," said Daddy. "I expected to wear those things in
Virginia this fall, after quail, or on the Chesapeake when the
canvas-backs are flying."
"I am afraid you will have to buy some, Daddy," I answered.
So I sat beside him, at his feet, and I think my mood had changed a
little. Perhaps it was fatigue, which I didn't really feel. I suppose
that people can have things the matter with them without knowing anything
about it. Daddy's dear old hand rested for a moment on my head, and I had
to stop knitting. I don't think I ever felt so queerly before, and I had
to look over Sweetapple Cove and follow the flight of the gulls, until
the shadows grew quite long and the clouds became tinted with rose, and
Daddy asked me to get him a cigar, and I was glad he interrupted my silly
thoughts. I must have been really very tired.
* * * * *
I could only write a little while, last night. We had some caribou steak
which Daddy became quite enthusiastic over, but I didn't feel hungry, and
I went to bed early, but somehow I slept poorly. It is funny that one can
be tired for several days at a time. And to-day, Aunt Jennie, some queer
things have happened, and the life that has so often felt like dreams has
become very serious, and I have seen some of the inner working of events
such as make one feel that existence has cruel sides to it.
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