Perhaps you think I haven't enjoyed this interruption to the monotony
of institution life! You can say all you please, my dear Mrs. Pendleton,
about how well I am managing your asylum, but, just the same, it isn't
natural for me to be so stationary. I very frequently need a change.
That is why Gordon, with his bubbling optimism and boyish spirits, is so
exhilarating especially as a contrast to too much doctor.
Sunday morning.
I must tell you the end of Gordon's visit. His intention had been to
leave at four, but in an evil moment I begged him to stay over till
9:30, and yesterday afternoon he and Singapore and I took a long
'cross-country walk, far out of sight of the towers of this asylum,
and stopped at a pretty little roadside inn, where we had a satisfying
supper of ham and eggs and cabbage. Sing stuffed so disgracefully that
he has been languid ever since.
The walk and all was fun, and a very grateful change from this
monotonous life I lead. It would have kept me pleasant and contented
for weeks if something most unpleasant hadn't happened later. We had
a beautiful, sunny, carefree afternoon, and I'm sorry to have had
it spoiled. We came back very unromantically in the trolley car, and
reached the J. G. H. before nine, just in good time for him to run on
to the station and catch his train. So I didn't ask him to come in, but
politely wished him a pleasant journey at the porte-cochere.
A car was standing at the side of the drive, in the shadow of the house.
I recognized it, and thought the doctor was inside with Mr. Witherspoon.
(They frequently spend their evenings together in the laboratory.) Well,
Gordon, at the moment of parting, was seized with an unfortunate impulse
to ask me to abandon the management of this asylum, and take over the
management of a private house instead.
Did you ever know anything like the man? He had the whole afternoon and
miles of empty meadow in which to discuss the question, but instead he
must choose our door mat!
I don't know just what I did say. I tried to turn it off lightly and
hurry him to his train. But he refused to be turned off lightly. He
braced himself against a post and insisted upon arguing it out. I knew
that he was missing his train, and that every window in this institution
was open. A man never has the slightest thought of possible overhearers.
It is always the woman who thinks of convention.
Being in a nervous twitter to get rid of him, I suppose I was pretty
abrupt and tactless. He began to get angry, and then by some unlucky
chance his eye fell on that car. He recognized it, too, and, being in
a savage mood, he began making fun of the doctor. "Old Goggle-eyes"
he called him, and "Scatchy," and oh, the awfullest lot of unmannerly,
silly things!