200 THE JONATHAN PAPERS 



and lie in a marsh. But this did not occur to 

 me. Instead, I thought of open fires, and pop 

 corn, and hot peanuts, and novels, and fudge, 

 and other such things, which are supposed to 

 be valuable as palliatives on days like these. 



The telephone rang. &quot;Oh, it s you, Jona 

 than! . . . What? No, not really! You 

 wouldn t! . . . Well, if the ducks like it, 

 they may have it all. I m not a duck. . . . 

 Why, of course, if you really want me to, I 11 

 go, only ... All right, I ll get out the 

 things. . . . Three o clock train? You ll 

 have to hurry!&quot; 



I hung up the receiver and sat a moment, 

 dazed, looking out at the reek of weather. 

 Then I shook myself and darted upstairs to 

 the hunting-closet. In half an hour the bag 

 was packed and Jonathan was at the door. 

 In an hour we were on the train, and at twi 

 light we were tramping out into a fog-swept 

 marsh. Grayness was all around us; under 

 foot was mud, glimmering patches of soft 

 snow, and the bristly stubble of the close-cut 

 marsh grass. 



&quot;What fools we are!&quot; I murmured. 



&quot;Why?&quot; said Jonathan contentedly. 



