There they
are, nine of them, like as peas in a pod, and all healthy. I shouldn't
wonder if the whole nine grows up--and what then? Amelia Hill just can't
hope to marry nine of them. Three out of the bunch would be about her
limit. And what are the others going to get? I say, give them the vote.
Land sakes! Why not? I ain't one to refuse to others what I don't
want myself."
CHAPTER XXII
Tired though he must have been, the doctor had never felt less like
sleep. There was a fever in his blood which the cool quietness of the
spare room could not soothe. The lavendered freshness of the bed invited
in vain. Crossing to the western window, he threw up the blind and
looked out to where, peeping out between roofs and trees, the gable
window of the Elms glittered in the early sun. The morning breeze blew
softly on his face, sweet with the scent of flowering pinks and
mignonette. In the orchard all the birds were up and singing. Every
blade of grass was gemmed with dew, sparkling through the yellow glory
of dawn like diamonds through a primrose veil.
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