Rejoicing City That Dwelt Carelessly
"He's putting me up for Piping Rock," went on Merivale.
"Why Jimmy you must know. . . . I'm sure Cousin Helena has been out there to tea many a time."
"You know Jimps," said Ellen with her eyes in her plate.
"That's where Stan Emery's father used to go every Sunday."
"Oh did you know that unfortunate young man? That was a horrible thing," said Mrs. Merivale. "So many horrible things have been happening these years. . . . I'd almost forgotten about it."
"Yes I knew him," said Ellen.
The leg of lamb came in accompanied by fried eggplant, late corn, and sweet potatoes. "Do you know I think it is just terrible," said Mrs. Merivale when she had done carving, "the way you fellows wont tell us any of your experiences over there. . . . Lots of them must have been remarkably interesting. Jimmy I should think you'd write a book about your experiences."
"I have tried a few articles."
"When are they coming out?"
"Nobody seems to want to print them. . . . You see I differ radically in certain matters of opinion . . ."
"Mrs. Merivale it's years since I've eaten such delicious sweet potatoes. . . . These taste like yams."
"They are good. . . . It's just the way I have them cooked."
"Well it was a great war while it lasted," said Merivale.
"Where were you Armistice night, Jimmy?"
"I was in Jerusalem with the Red Cross. Isn't that absurd?"
"I was in Paris."
"So was I," said Ellen.
"And so you were over there too Helena? I'm going to call you Helena eventually, so I might as well begin now. . . . Isn't that interesting? Did you and Jimmy meet over there?"