But it had to be
done--there wasn't any sense in both of them, he and Ted, walking crippled
when one of them might be able to doctor the other up by just giving up a
little pride. He went on.
"So I thought--I'd just stay around here with a book or something--get some
tea from your mother, later, if she were here--"
"Why, I can do that much for you, Ollie, anyway. Let's have it now."
"But look here, if you were going to do anything--" knowing that after that
she could hardly say so, even if she were.
"Oh no. And besides, with both of us here and both of us blue it would be
silly if we went and were melancholy at each other from opposite sides of
the house." She tried to be enthusiastic. "And there's strawberry jam and
muffins somewhere--the kind that Peter makes himself such a pig about--"
"Well, Elinor, you certainly are a friend--"
A little later, in a quiet corner of the porch with the tea-steam floating
pleasantly from the silver nose of its pot and a decorous scarlet and
yellow still-life of muffins and jam between them, Oliver felt that so far
things had slid along as well as could be expected.