THE LUCK OF THE IRISH
"Talking to me like that! I know what's the trouble with him. He sees things just the same as I do, but when they get into his head they begin walking backward."
Half an hour later he had forgotten the incident. The agile mind is generally nearer happiness than the plodding one; and William had the faculty of leaping mentally from one object to another, like a chamois. Ruth found him drawing pictures of elephants for the children.
"What are you drawing?" she asked.
"Elephants."
"Really?" She laughed.
"Sure." He extended a finished product. His ideas of anatomy were certainly wonderful to behold. Had such an elephant existed, every hunter in the world would have been scouring the jungles.
"Goodness! what is it?" she asked, holding the drawing flat, then endways, then upside down. "Oh, I see. It's Vesuvius."
"Aw! Say, kids, what is this picture?" he demanded, snatching back the drawing.
"Elephunt!" they shrieked.
"There, smarty!"
She sat down on the deck. "Let me draw one."
The children clamored about her shoulders and William craned his neck. With a few deft strokes a real elephant appeared; he had the right kind of ears, trunk, wrinkles, eyes.
"Oh, that's a real elephunt!" cried one of the children.
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