” 174 < 21 > THANKSGIVING She padded softly up the old stairs, exhausted and elated. I never forgive an injury. When the carpenter concluded his recital, Jonathan was for a moment lost in reflection. She knew that to expect more now was like anticipating a gold-mine in the garden. "I was about to add," continued Gay, "that my opera shall have no music except the good old ballad tunes. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. Her curiosity was insatiable, her dreams filled with happy speculation over what hair color her babies would inherit. The old fool’s been working on you through your sister to keep off the stage. I am a physician first, which gives the man in me a secondary part.
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