Their silence meant
that they thought Susan's pluck in "working out" quite wonderful. But
Susan mistook their meaning and her sun-burned face grew red.
"This habit of swearing seems to be growing on me, Mrs. Dr. dear," she
said apologetically. "To think that I should be acquiring it at my age!
It is such a dreadful example to the young girls. I am of the opinion it
comes of reading the newspapers so much. They are so full of profanity
and they do not spell it with stars either, as used to be done in my
young days. This war is demoralizing everybody."
Susan, standing on a load of grain, her grey hair whipping in the breeze
and her skirt kilted up to her knees for safety and convenience--no
overalls for Susan, if you please--neither a beautiful nor a romantic
figure; but the spirit that animated her gaunt arms was the self-same
one that captured Vimy Ridge and held the German legions back from
Verdun.
It is not the least likely, however, that this consideration was the one
which appealed most strongly to Mr. Pryor when he drove past one
afternoon and saw Susan pitching sheaves gamely.
"Smart woman that," he reflected. "Worth two of many a younger one yet.
I might do worse--I might do worse. If Milgrave comes home alive I'll
lose Miranda and hired housekeepers cost more than a wife and are liable
to leave a man in the lurch any time. I'll think it over.
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