XL
Six months from that day upon which old Mars, God of War had angrily thrown down his cannons, tanks, gas-bombs and so on, fuming at Man’s inability to “stand up to it,” Gadsby’s mansion was dark again. Not totally dark; just his parlor lamp, and a light or two in halls and on stairways. And so this history found Nancy and Kathlyn out on that moon-lit porch; Nancy sobbing, fighting it off, and sobbing again. Tall, studious, loving Kathlyn, sitting fondly by Nancy’s tiny form, said;—
“Now, sis; I wouldn’t cry so much, for I don’t think that conditions, just now, call for it.”
“B-b-b-but I’d stop if I could, wouldn’t I?” and poor Nancy was sobbing again. “Now, wait!” and Kathlyn, uncommonly cross, vigorously shook Nancy’s arm. “You can’t gain a thing this way. Mama is probably all right. Oh, is that you, Daddy?”
His Honor sat down by his two girls. Gadsby was not looking good. Black rings around his always laughing orbs; a hard cast to that jovial mouth; a gray hair or two, cropping up amongst his wavy brown. But Gadsby was not old. Oh, no;
[ 249 ]
