"But dear me, Karl," after a second's hesitation, "it seems you should
take a day or two first."
"Why?" he demanded.
"Well,"--vaguely--"to get rested up."
"Rested up!" He stretched forth his arm and then doubled it back, and
they both laughed. "That's a joke--my getting rested up. Why I feel like
a fighting cock!"
"And crazy to get to work?"
"Getting that way. Oh, I tell you, Ernestine, there's nothing like it."
Again she did not mind; she understood. She looked at his glowing face,
all alight with enthusiasm for the work to which he was going back. She
was never tired of thinking how Karl's face was just what Karl's face
should be--reflective of a clear-cut, far-seeing, deeply comprehending
mind. It seemed all written there--all those things of mind and
character, and something too of those other things--the things which
were for her alone. Ernestine held that one could tell by looking at Karl
that he was doing some great thing.
"But see here, Dr. Hubers, a nice way you have of shirking your domestic
duties! Who is going to help me settle this famous house Georgia tells
about?"
"I'll do it at night," he protested eagerly.
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