The Little Doctor sighed and watched him
ride away beside Andy. "Children are such self-centred little
beasts!" she told J. G. rue-fully. "I almost wish he was a
girl."
"Ay? If he was a girl he wouldn't git lost, maybe, but some
feller'd take him away from yuh just the same. The Kid's all
right. He's just the kind you expect him to be and want him
to be. You're tickled to death because he's like he is.
Doggone it, Dell, that Kid's got the real stuff in him! He's
a dead ringer fer his dad--that ought to do yuh."
"It does," the Little Doctor declared. "But it does seem as
if he might be contented here with me for a little while--
after such a horrible time--"
"It wasn't horrible to him, yuh want to recollect. Doggone
it, I wish that Blake would come back. You write to him,
Dell, and tell him how things is stacking up. He oughta be
here on the ground. No tellin' what them nesters'll build up
next."
So the Old Man slipped back into the old channels of worry
and thought, just as life itself slips back after a stressful
period. The little Doctor sighed again and sat down to write
the letter and to discuss with the Old Man what she should
say.
There was a good deal to say. For one thing, more contests
had been filed and more shacks built upon claims belonging to
the Happy Family.
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