His auditors wiped their eyes, half ashamed of their laughter.
“It is funny,” said Nancy Tucker, “but it seems awful to laugh at such things.”
“Awful! Not a bit of it,” declared Barrows. “It’s religious. Doesn’t it say in the Bible, ’Laugh and the world laughs with you, Die and the world laughs on’?”
“I laugh,—but I am ashamed of myself,” confessed Carol.
“What do women want to spoil a good story for?” protested Nevius. “That’s a funny story, and it is true. It is supposed to be laughed at. And Reddy is better off. He had so many bugs you couldn’t tell which was bugs and which was Reddy. He was an ugly guy, too, and he was stuck on a girl and she turned him down. She said Reddy was all right, but no one could raise a eugenical family with a father as ugly as Reddy. He didn’t care if he died. Every night he used to flip up a coin to see if he would live till morning. He said if he got off ahead of us he was coming back to haunt us. But I told him he’d better fly while the flying was good, for I sure would show him a lively race up to the rosy clouds if I ever caught up. I knew if he got there first he’d pick out the best harp and leave me a wheezy mouth organ. He always wanted the best of everything.”
Just then the nurse opened the door.
“Barrows and Nevius,” she said sternly. “This is the rest hour, and you are both under orders. Please go home at once and go to bed, or I shall report to Mrs. Hartley.” When they had gone, she looked searchingly into the face of the brand-new chaser. “How are you feeling now?” she asked.
“Oh, pretty well.” And then she added honestly, “It really isn’t as bad as I had expected. I think I can stand it a while.”
“Have you caught a glimpse of the sunny slopes yet?”
Instinctively they turned their eyes to the distant mountains, with the white crown of snow at the top, and beneath, long radiating lines of alternating light and shadow, stretching down to the mesa.