"Or enemies," agreed Auntie Sue.
Brian went to the window, and stood for some time, looking out into the
night. Then turning, with a nervous gesture, he paced uneasily up
and down the room; while Auntie Sue watched him in silence with an
expression of loving concern on her dear old face.
At last, she spoke: "Why, Brian, what is the matter? What have I said?
I did not mean to upset you like this. Come, sit down here, and tell me
about it. What is it troubles you so?"
With a short laugh, Brian came and stood before her. "I suppose it had
to come sooner or later, Auntie Sue. I have been trying for days to
muster up courage enough to tell you about it. You have touched the one
biggest thing in my life."
"Why, what do you mean, Brian?"
"I mean just what we have been talking about,--writing," answered Brian.
"Oh!" she cried, with quick and delighted triumph. "Then I AM right. You
have been thinking about it, too."
"Thinking about it!" he echoed, and in his voice she felt the nervous
intensity of his mood. "I have thought of nothing else. All day long
when I am at work, I am writing, writing, writing. It is the last thing
on my mind when I go to sleep. I dream about it all night. And, it is
the first thing I think about in the morning."
Auntie Sue clasped her hands to her heart with an exclamation of joyous
interest.
Pages:
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110