The Family
brought it up from Old Mexico, you know. He gave
it to Tom that winter he had pneumonia. Tom
ought to have taken it to France with him. He
used to say that Rodney Blake might turn up in the
Foreign Legion. If he had taken this, it might have
been like the wooden cups that were always revealing
Amis and A mile to each other.”
St. Peter smiled and patted her hand on the blanket. “Do you know, Kitty, I sometimes think I ought to go out and look for Blake myself. He’s on my conscience. If that country down there weren’t so everlastingly big——”
“Oh, Father! That was my romantic dream when I was little, finding Roddy! I used to think about it for hours when I was supposed to be taking my nap. I used to swim rivers and climb mountains and wander about with Navajos, and rescue Roddy at the most critical moments, when he was being stabbed in the back, or drugged in a gambling-house, and bring him back to Tom. You know Tom told us about him long before he ever told you.”
“You children used to live in his stories. You cared more about them than about all your adventure books.”
“I still do,” said Kathleen, rising. “Now that Rosamond has Outland, I consider Tom’s mesa entirely my own.”
St. Peter put down the cigarette he had just
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