Why
not? Merle did not think it beneath her to wash and scrub and do the
cooking. True enough, things had been different with them once, but it
was only Merle now who ever had moments of dreaming that the old days
might come back. Otherwise, for both him and her it was as if they had
been washed ashore on a barren coast, and must try to live through the
grey days as best they could.
It would happen once in a while that a mowing machine of the new
American type would be sent in by some farmer to the smithy for repairs.
When this happened, Peer would shut his lips close, with a queer
expression, look at the machine for a moment, and swallow something in
his throat. The man who had stolen this thing from him and bettered it
by a hairsbreadth was doubtless a millionaire by now on the strength of
it.
It cost him something of an effort to take these repairs in hand, but he
bowed his head and set to. Merle, poor girl, needed a pair of shoes.
At times, too, he would turn from the anvil and the darkness within and
come out into the doorway for a breath of air; and here he would look
out upon the day--the great broad empty day.
A man with a sledge-hammer in his hands instinctively looks up at the
heavens. He has inherited that instinct from his great ancestor, who
brought down fire and thought to men, and taught them to rebel against
God.
Peer looked at the sky, and at the clouds, sweeping across it in a
meaningless turmoil. Rebellion against someone up there? But heaven is
empty.
Pages:
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257