The Professors House
In a world full of blunderers, why should Augusta
have to pay scrupulously for her mistakes? It’s
very petty of Rosie, really!”
Kathleen started to speak, stopped and turned away. “Scott will give a hundred dollars,” she said a moment later.
“That’s very generous of him. I’ll give another, and Rosie shall make up the rest. If she doesn’t, I’ll speak to Louie. He’s an absolutely generous chap. I’ve never known him to refuse to give either time or money.”
Kathleen’s eyes suddenly brightened. “Why, Daddy, you have Tom’s Mexican blanket! I never knew he gave it to you. I’ve often wondered what became of it.” She picked up from the foot of the box-couch a purple blanket, faded in streaks to amethyst, with a pale yellow stripe at either end.
“Oh, yes, I often get chilly when I lie down, especially if I turn the stove out, which your mother says I ought always to do. Nothing could part me from that blanket.”
“He wouldn’t have given it to anybody but you. It was like his skin. Do you remember how horsey it smelled when he first brought it over and showed it to us?”
“Just like a livery stable! It had been strapped behind the saddle on so many sweating cow-ponies. In damp weather that smell is still perceptible.”
Kathleen stroked it thoughtfully. “Roddy
—130—
