XII
ONE July night, when the moon was full, Dr. Archie was coming up from the depot, restless and discontented, wishing there were something to do. He carried his straw hat in his hand, and kept brushing his hair back from his forehead with a purposeless, unsatisfied gesture. After he passed Uncle Billy Beemer's cottonwood grove, the sidewalk ran out of the shadow into the white moonlight and crossed the sand gully on high posts, like a bridge. As the doctor approached this trestle, he saw a white figure, and recognized Thea Kronborg. He quickened his pace and she came to meet him.
"What are you doing out so late, my girl?" he asked as he took her hand.
"Oh, I don't know. What do people go to bed so early for? I 'd like to run along before the houses and screech at them. Is n't it glorious out here?"
The young doctor gave a melancholy laugh and pressed her hand.
"Think of it," Thea snorted impatiently. "Nobody up but us and the rabbits! I 've started up half a dozen of 'em. Look at that little one down there now,"—she stooped and pointed. In the gully below them there was, indeed, a little rabbit with a white spot of a tail, crouching down on the sand, quite motionless. It seemed to be lapping up the moonlight like cream. On the other side of the walk, down in the ditch, there was a patch of tall, rank sunflowers, their shaggy leaves white with dust. The moon stood over the cottonwood grove. There was no wind, and no sound but the wheezing of an engine down on the tracks.
"Well, we may as well watch the rabbits." Dr. Archie sat down on the sidewalk and let his feet hang over the
80
