Excerpt from Some of Us Are Married

It Seems too bad that I can't go to Aunt Kit's funeral - the very last member of the old family!" From the paper he was reading, Ben Bromley looked up yearningly at his wife, who sat by the window in a short-sleeved, pink gingham frock, shelling peas with expert fingers. It was ten a.m. on a warm Sunday, nobody was going to church, but the two small boys and little Alice were at Sunday school, the sixteen-year-old Top was upstairs employed exhaustively in the sacred rite of cleaning his gun. There was a sense of peace and space and leisure.

Early as it was, the voice of Rill's young man could be heard down below on the front piazza, the rhythmical dragging of his big heavy-soled shoes along the boards showed that he was sprawled, as usual, in the hammock, while Rill sat near it in the little green rocking chair, gazing at him, happily. It was the corner of the piazza where Mr. Bromley and his wife had been in the habit of sitting, but it was, of course, all right that things had changed.

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